Fallout: SG-1
by RossCostello
Summary: Two hundred years after the world was bathed in nuclear fire. The Brotherhood of Steel's mission is to find technology that came from before the apocalypse, but they could never have imagined that they'd discover something older than humanity itself: a portal to other worlds - a Stargate. It finally seems like there is hope for the Wasteland, but war... War never changes.
1. Prologue

In a way, this was where it started:

**IN ANOTHER WORLD**

The rain fell down in buckets. All around were ruined buildings and dead men. Despite the pervasive aroma of the storm, the stench of decay and burned silicon still made themselves known. This was a place of death and destruction, a recognizable symbol of an ancient tradition: war, a constant that never changes.

Leaning on a crumbled wall was a man. Many described him as a Wanderer. Despite his renowned endurance he looked like he was tired. In a way, it was true – he was exhausted, but not out of any physical phenomenon, no – he was merely bored. As much as he enjoyed the art of battle, mindless killing against unworthy adversaries only served to turn it into a chore.

There was someone else like him about to cross his path. Like the Wanderer, she was a legend in her own right. She had been known as a messenger, a Courier. When she delivered, she did it without any hesitation. Like the Wanderer she had been growing bored of the endless slaughter, and she needed someone that was at least her equal to derive any significant pleasure from the experience. Her near-mythical perception managed to spot him loitering among a pile of corpses, and she moved in.

And so they met.

He saw the figure approaching him and aimed his ancient, gold-plated repeater at her. The rifle was hundreds of years old, older even than the War that broke the Earth. After years of extended use it had become part of him now, an extension of his being. When he wanted to shoot something, it struck true - aiming was a mere formality. He had caught her in his sights – she was his.

Wait - no, not yet.

She had her pistol out, and he had no doubt that she was thinking the same thing that he did. He had to act fast – he saw that the Courier was doing the same thing, but with her pistol. Both of them were ready to finish the game, and time seemed to freeze up as destiny decided who was going to shoot first.

He'd hoped that destiny decided to favour him – it always did. With one hand on the trigger, he closed his eyes and pulled.

Nothing came out. He pulled again. An empty click.

Dismayed, he put the rifle away. He looked at the Courier, who appeared to be having similar difficulties with her pistol. Even in the cloudy darkness provided by the heavy rain, the weapon seemed to be emitting a faint glow – a light shining in darkness. Click. Click. She pulled the trigger twice, nothing came out.

They were at a stalemate. With their eyes locked on each other and their guns empty, they knew that there was only one way they could finish this.

The Wanderer drew a light, metallic baseball bat from his back. The weight of it was reassuring in his hands. Like the Courier's pistol, it was somehow giving off the impression that it was shimmering despite the dim light of the rainstorm. It had seen its fair share of slaughter, but despite all that its surface was pristine, clear of blood. Perhaps it was the rain, or maybe it was the property of the metal it was made of. It didn't matter – the weapon was clean enough to deceive.

The Courier's weapon, on the other hand, was a short combat knife that held no illusions about its history. Its jet-black handle had been patched over time and time again, and the blade's metal was tinted a rusty brown interspersed with patches of fresh, bright red blood. She took her position, holding the knife backwards in her hands as she stepped closer to the Wanderer.

The Wanderer smirked. He raised his baseball bat with a flourish and imitated a batter's position. He stepped backwards, following the Courier's dance. A flash of stray lightning gave him his opportunity to strike. He rushed forward bringing the bat up to bear, and the Courier responded likewise with her knife.

The clang of metal seemed to coincide with the sound of thunder, as if this was a sign that what happened here would set off a chain of events that left the fate of the galaxy hanging by a thread.

-=(O)=-

In another way, this was also where it started:

**SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER**

Veronica Santangelo ran a hand through her short, almost boyish brown hair and sighed in annoyance at how oily it had gotten. The oppressive midday Nevada heat threatened to drown her in her sweat as she sat down on the hood of a burned-out car strewn out the side of the cracked highway, and to make matters worse she felt a stab of pain lance through the inside of her cheek.

She rubbed the cheek thoughtfully, thinking back to the memory of what caused it in the first place. She had already drowned herself in half a bottle of whiskey back there, and the whole night had been a bit of a fog. There were bright lights, the girl she was hitting on edged away from her, and then the rest was a blur. When she woke up in the medical cart she found out that she'd taken on more than half of the clientele of the inn and they'd billed the damages she'd caused to Elder McNamara.

The most troubling memento she got from that incident was the chronic pain that occasionally popped up inside her mouth when she ate something particularly sweet. She'd been eating a half-molten Fancy Lad snack cake and despite the gooey, almost liquid feeling in her mouth she liked the taste enough to derive at least _some _enjoyment from it. She didn't want to spit the sugary concoction out, so she did her best to swallow it.

Veronica had been a stalwart companion of the mysterious woman known as Courier Six, and her influence rubbed off on the scribe in more ways than she could count. Sitting across from her was a bald, bespectacled man who had obviously been spending too much time in front of terminals. He was Scribe Ibsen, and like Veronica he wasn't really all that fond of the current environment. Like her, he was sweating like a pig, and it seemed like he couldn't go five seconds without wiping sweat away from his forehead with his towel.

He noticed the way she was rubbing her cheek and frowned.

"You really should take better care of your teeth, Veronica," he said, in an almost patronizing tone. "All that sugar can't be good for you."

Veronica smirked at that remark. "Haven't you heard, Ibsen? I'm very good at doing things that aren't good for me."

Ibsen narrowed his eyes at her and shrugged. "Well, far be it from me to judge your choices. I've always thought that your recklessness was part of your charm."

Her lips curled into a warm smile at the compliment. "Thanks. I don't make it a point to do the stupidest choice at the most crucial times, though. I've just got something of a knack for it, really."

Ibsen sighed. "Do you always have to put yourself down like this?"

"I'm not putting myself down," she replied. "I'm just bringing myself up to the same level that the world is, if that makes any sense." She racked her mouth for a bit and rubbed her cheek again, looking to change the subject. "So, how's that girl you've been pining after? Snow, was it? The emotionless one?"

Veronica took a sick pleasure in watching the faint blush creep up his face. She felt terrible for doing it, but she was bored. She continued on. "I've seen her in the showers, you know. If you need any information about her body…"

"You gawk at everyone in the showers," retorted Ibsen dismissively. "Some of the others make it a point to avoid you – what with your preferences and all. Grayson thinks you're creepy."

Veronica held up her hands as if to prove her innocence. "Hey, can't blame a girl for looking. Besides, I doubt Snow cares if I stare at her even for an hour. She's one of those... how do I put it? A-"

"Guys?" interjected Watkins' voice through the radio. Veronica found her voice annoying. There had always been a bit of a rivalry between them, and despite its serial escalation it never really blossomed into full-on hate for each other. They tolerated each other's existence. "We found something. You better come take a look at this."

"Gotcha," said Veronica. Finally. She nodded at Ibsen and patted his shoulder affectionately. "You can tell me about that later, Ibsen. It's time."

They slid out of the car hoods they were sitting in and made their way to what looked like a couple of heavily armoured men standing by in front of the ruined gas station. They were tall, easily capable of dwarfing any normal human. They were not men, however – they were simply suits of T-45d power armour. Veronica stepped up behind one and turned a wheel that looked like it was designed to be put on a pipe. The back of the suit opened up to accommodate her, and she stepped in. The suit closed around her with a satisfying hydraulic hiss. She heard a similar sound when Ibsen entered the suit assigned to him.

With that, they journeyed off into the vast expanse of the Nevada desert towards the vague direction of Watkins' signal.

The heat didn't bother them as much as it would if they hadn't been wearing the armour, but it was still uncomfortable even with the air conditioning modules turned on full blast. For the most part, the walk was stuffy and uncomfortable but by the time they rendezvoused with the other two the sun had already turned orange. Veronica just looked at it for a while, hiding between the giant nipple-peaks of two particularly pointy mountains. They'd arrived at what looked to be an abandoned US army checkpoint flanked by two turretbots that had been disabled thanks to the liberal application of hot plasma bolts.

"They didn't put up much of a fight," said Cordoba, his voice amplified by his helmet's speakers. His suit of power armour seemed a lot more polished compared to theirs, an aesthetic afforded thanks to the fact that his was a later model – T-51b. He was a middle-aged man who'd seen a lot of battle, and like most Paladins he wasn't fond of being verbose. "We took the liberty of scouting ahead for you. The whole place was an airfield of some sort, and it doesn't seem to be on any of the maps provided before. This place is definitely Old World, and as far as I can tell nobody's been here since the bombs fell. We'll take another look around."

"Sounds like a good idea," said Veronica. "You go on ahead. Ibsen and I will cover the places you haven't visited yet."

Watkins pointed to a couple of buildings nearby. "We haven't checked those out yet. You should probably go take a look."

Veronica followed the gesture and then snapped back to Watkins. "Gotcha. If you see anything shiny, tell me. It could be important."

Watkins didn't seem to take kindly to the order. "If you say so."

Veronica grumbled. "Try not to lose your pistol while you're there."

That shut her up. She wasn't a big fan of Watkins either, but they had to work together for now. Sacrifices had to be made and that little bit of information helped to silence her whenever the need came up. One of Six's gifts, she supposed. She pushed that thought out of her mind before she went on a thinking spree again.

"Right," she muttered. "Ibsen, same goes for you. Look for shiny things or whatever. You know how we are about technology."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied.

And so they went. Veronica entered a hangar with a side door that looked like its paint had barely even been eroded. Nevada can do that to you, she guessed. There were symbols still missing, true, but she could make out most of it. The first part read "**AREA**", but the rest was too faded to make out. They looked like numbers. The inside of the building itself was a lot like what she found at Nellis, only without all the Boomer junk in it. There weren't any planes or vertibirds inside, but the equipment used to maintain them was all there.

On the far side of the hangar she saw a series of doors, one of them with a sign above it. She moved closer and saw that it was as pristine as the day it was put there. "GENERAL O'NEILL". Without hesitation, she went inside and peeked around. She couldn't make out much in the fading daylight, but she could see that it was definitely an office. Everything was caked with dust and a few things had fallen over, but aside from that it seemed like nobody had been in here for a while. She could make out a couple of portraits hung on the wall, but it was too dark to see their faces. She could still read the nameplates, though, even if only barely. The first one read "COL JACK O'NEILL - RET. 1996". The second one "MAJ GEN CHARLES O'NEILL - RET. 2044". Grandfather and father, she guessed. One big happy family.

She turned on the light switch on a whim and surprisingly, it worked. the office was illuminated by a couple of faded fluorescent lights embedded into the ceiling and the contents of the office came into view. "Well, that's weird," she muttered.

She strolled carefully over to the fancy wooden desk that stood in front of a draped flag of the Old World, and took off her helmet. There was a computer terminal in front of the comfy chair with a black leatherbound notebook next to it that read "**SGC**" in embossed golden letters. Curious, she opened it and snooped around its contents. A lot of the pages had writing on them, but she could barely make anything out. Sighing, she turned around and started looking at the flag. It reminded her of Six, of Mr. House, and everyone else who wanted to bring America back. She grunted and started tugging on it. _It's not like anyone would care if I took this down_, she thought.

She stopped once she saw what was behind it. She dropped the flag and started talking into her radio. "Uh, guys? I think I found something."

"Funny," said Watkins' voice. "I was just about to tell you the same thing. This place is _huge_."

"Same here, Veronica," said Ibsen.

"Is it a door?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Watkins.

"No," said Ibsen.

"What's yours, Ibsen?"

"An underground data storage center. Power's still active, too."

"I was wondering about that," said Watkins.

"We may have found what we're looking for," continued Ibsen.

"I wouldn't say that just yet," said Veronica. "Keep looking around. Ibsen, see if you can open up the computers. Watkins and Cordoba, open that door on my count. Ready?"

"Ready," said Cordoba.

"One." Her hand hovered over a nearby lever, cleverly hidden behind a fishing trophy. Not clever enough.

"Two. Three. Go!"

She pulled the lever. The door slid open with a hiss of steam, and time seemed to slow down enough for her to play a little bit of triumphant music in her head. It opened up to reveal the classic Vault-Tec style Stairs That Go Down. Blinking lights, another door at the end, all that stuff. This time it's longer than usual. "And we're in business."

"It's open. Seems to be a hallway of some sort," said Cordoba. "We'll continue onwards. Watch yourself, Veronica."

"Always do," she said.

She started walking down the stairs, which seemed to go on forever. By the time she was at the end, her legs felt like they didn't want to stop walking. She opened the door and peeked inside. It was dark, she saw, and there weren't any lights on. "Be advised," she said. "It's dark down here."

"Affirmative," said Cordoba. "We're switching to night vision."

"Veronica," said Ibsen's voice. "The computers are up. Based on what information I could extract, this was some sort of Air Force facility. A lot of the data is encrypted, and it'll take some time for me to sort through it all. I've deactivated what I could only hope to be the facility's security systems, so you shouldn't run into any surprises there. Keep me informed."

"Copy that," said Cordoba.

"Gotcha," said Veronica.

She flicked on night vision mode and stood as the flood of green overwhelmed her sight, allowing her to see things in good old Computer Monochrome color scheme. The vault was much like the base upstairs, only with more dust everywhere. There were more doors and hallways, and she could see that most of them had signs that indicated where they came out - "HANGAR 1", "CLINIC", "ARMORY", and so on. Others simply led to more rooms inside, some of them with windows that exposed their boring functions - "PRESENTATION ROOM 1", "CONFERENCE ROOM A", and everything else she would have absolutely not liked spending hours on. If this was a vault, it was probably full of anal-retentive dwellers because everything was inexplicably cleaner than she expected it to be.

"This is kind of creepy," she remarked. The stillness of it all made her expect something to come out and attack her. A robot? Ghoul? Desert lakelurks?

"Scared?" commented Watkins. "It's still on, you know."

"Shut up," she retorted. "Shouldn't you be searching or something?"

She shut up and tried to remain off the comms for a while until she found a group of elevators.

"Ibsen," she said. "Any controls for the elevators up there?"

"Yes, hang on," said Ibsen. "I'm turning on power to whatever I can. Stand by."

She waited. A second later, a flash of light came over her, blinding her and causing her to mutter a bunch of curses. She hurriedly slid off her helmet and breathed in, blinking a few times as her vision returned to her. "Can you _please _count first before you do that? You almost blinded me!"

"Sorry," he replied. She could hear Watkins giggling.

"Shut up, Watkins."

"I don't know how far down the elevators go, but it seems that power is absent in most of the lower levels. You're going to have to restore it manually and reestablish the connection to the central controls."

"I'll go ahead and to that. Cordoba, you found anything?"

"Robots," he said. "Old models, deactivated."

"That's helpful. Keep going."

"Understood."

"I'm going to head over to the lower levels. If anyone outside comes calling that's not part of us, go ahead and kill them with the 'bots or whatever."

"Intrusion isn't likely, Veronica. This facility is way out-"

"_Ah_," interjected Veronica. "Sssh. Just... keep watch before bad things happen and it's all your fault."

"...Right. Good luck."

"Don't need it," she quipped. She pushed the down button near one of the elevators and one of them opened. She went inside and started looking at all the buttons. There seemed to be around thirty levels to this place. She pushed the second-lowest button and put her helmet back on. The silence continued to unnerve her, so she started humming a couple of songs that she recalled from radio. The light turned off when she was in the middle of Blue Moon. She used a flashlight instead of her helmet's apparatus just in case another surprise power-return occurred.

The elevator opened, still empty. She stepped outside and started peeking around. She almost jumped when she saw the blinking red light of a sentrybot staring straight at her. It had its weapons raised, but from what she could tell it seemed to be sleeping. She wanted to poke it, but the little voice inside her told her that wouldn't be a good idea. For once, she listened to it.

Once she was past the first hallway, that the walls were covered with yellow-and-black hazard stripes and illuminated by the dim light of silent sirens. The vibe it was giving her was less than encouraging, but turning back would make Watkins right and that was a risk she wasn't willing to take. She pressed onwards until she found a door that said "CONTROL ROOM". She opened it and went inside.

As far as control rooms went, this seemed to follow the standard layout. Although she wasn't at Hopeville, she felt that this was the kind of room they used over there. One of the walls was dominated by a bulletproof glass window that led to nothing but a big wall of metal and the other one was dominated by bulletin boards, monitors, and other equipment that would no doubt provide a whole lot of information to whoever worked here. There were computers lined up everywhere along with various levers and buttons that no doubt would do something if she just fiddled with them. She was only looking for one, though. She found it near the big central computer, a tantalizing thing covered in hazard stripes that said "WINDOW". She took a seat in the chair in front of it, pulled the lever, and waited.

The metallic groan of the blast doors retracting reminded her of a yawning super mutant. She walked over to the window and saw what was beyond it. There were more hazard stripes, lining the walls, and in front of it was a giant, stonelike ring that seemed to have a ramp leading up to it. The ring itself seemed to be divided into a lot of sections, and from what she could see some of them were constellations, others were symbols that she couldn't quite make out. Curious, she raised an eyebrow and spoke into her comms. "Ibsen?" she asked. "Ibsen? Hello?"

"Veronica!" he replied. It wasn't through the radio, though - it was through the facility's intercom. "Veronica, I found something. You might wanna see this."

Veronica scrambled to find the nearest intercom and started speaking into it. "I was about to tell you the same thing," she said, rubbing her chin. "We've been using that expression a lot today. What's up?"

"You won't believe it," he said, barely containing his excitement. "This facility is housing a powerful device - something that could be the key to solving all of our problems. Look around the lower levels for a ring-shaped object, roughly six point seven meters in diameter-"

"Wait wait wait," said Veronica. She turned around, walking back to the window and staring at the thing. Her eyes widened and she ran back to the intercom. "Well, howdy doodee, I think I just found it."

"You _what?!" _said Ibsen. "Stay there, I'm coming over!"

"Oooh boy," she said. "Bring the others with you, they're going to want to see this. Come to think of it, McNamara's going to want to have a look at this, too. And Schuler, and Taggart, and... Well, basically everyone."

"This is _huge_, Veronica!" exclaimed Ibsen. "This Stargate could be the key to saving the Wasteland!"

"Hold up. The what now?"

"I'll explain later. Right now, we've got to send the message back to the Elder. We've found our new home."


	2. Sunset Part 1 - First Contact

**A/N: **This is a rewritten version of the chapter. Expect discrepancies and redundancies to occur between this and the other early chapters until I finish their rewritten versions.

* * *

**SUNSET: PART 1 OF 2 - FIRST CONTACT**

"You've _gotta _help me, doc."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on. There'll be lots of adventure."

"For the last time, Veronica. I said _no_."

She grumbled and followed him into the tent. "Look, you want to help people, don't you?"

"I won't get in bed with the Brotherhood, Veronica. You should know that about me, and you probably do. Do the smart thing and listen to that voice in your head for once."

"Yeah, but this time the voice is telling me that you _definitely _need to get involved with this."

He nodded to a nearby doctor pushing along a patient that crossed the wrong side of one of House's Securitrons. "Put him over there. And Veronica, no. For the last time, no. I loathe repeating myself but let me reiterate: No. Negative. Nada. _Nope_."

"Ugh. Why not just do it as a favour, then? Find out what this is all about? Even for just one day or so. You won't regret it, I promise."

Arcade grunted and started to object. Before he could speak, Veronica covered his mouth with her hand and tried to smile at him like a kitten. "Please?"

Arcade nodded, hesitantly. Veronica took off her hand and hugged him. "Thanks!"

"One day. That's all."

-=(O)=-

"The Wattz 2000 laser rifle," he said. "Accurate, deadly. It's heavier than the AER-9 but it's got more punch and range. Perfect for sniper activity."

Veronica shook her head and just sighed. "That's not what I'm looking for."

Lorenzo blinked. "Then why are you here then?"

"I just wanted my pistol, Lorenzo," she replied. "Not a freaking gun show. Just… go do what Torres did. Did you even clean it?"

"Well, I'm not her and she's dead now, so you're stuck with me," he said, sighing. "Just… go look for your pistol." He waved towards the racks of the armoury and went back to reading his old issue of _Future Weapons Today_.

"Mm-hm," she said, rolling her eyes. She was aware that he needed some time to get accustomed to his job, but still. Guy didn't even answer the question. Can't a girl have a competent quartermaster for once?

She picked up her trusty pistol and headed over to the briefing room. He remembered to clean it, at least. McNamara sat with Schuler and Taggart, the Mojave chapter's local top intellectuals (although that was up for debate, especially with regards to Taggart), talking about the Stargate. Next to them sat a couple of scribes taking down minutes of the meeting, since it was a universal rule of bureaucracy that you should always keep records of a meeting. It's not like they were taking notes on a criminal conspiracy, at any rate.

"-sure about this, Elder?" asked Schuler. "I realize that we have to be cautious, but-"

"The benefits outweigh the risk, Schuler. We have to limit the amount of personnel going on this mission. It's up to you and Taggart to pick the best from your crop. Three for each of you, at most. We can't afford to start losing our people again."

She couldn't quite come up with an argument to that, and so backed down. Taggart was looking particularly smug about it. McNamara looked at Veronica and nodded at her.

"Is your companion acclimating well?" he asked.

"More or less. Look, I know you're suspicious of him but you've got to cut him some slack. I mean, sure he's an outsider, but he can help us."

"We need all the medical professionals we can get," said Schuler. "You were wise to pick him, Veronica. Nonetheless, he's still an outsider. We must be cautious."

"You keep using that word," said Veronica. "You all keep using that word. Why is it that-"

"It's in our best interest," interjected McNamara. "I know you want to go out there, Veronica, and we're giving you the chance to do that. You discovered the Stargate, Veronica, and now you must go through it. We want to help you, but we still have to protect ourselves. How many of us died trying to escape from House? How many of us died after the disaster at HELIOS? Must I go on? You know how it is."

"I _know_, Elder," she replied. "It's just that…"

She stopped. She didn't quite know how to explain it. After Hidden Valley, after HELIOS, all they've done is run and run and run. "When are we going to stop running, elder?"

He was quiet for a while. "I don't know, Veronica."

"Right…"

He cleared his throat. "Right, onto the matter at hand. This companion of yours, this… Doctor. He's your responsibility. Whatever he does will be on you. Do you understand that?"

"Huh?" she said, blinking. "Oh, yeah. Sure."

McNamara seemed satisfied with that. "I trust you're aware of the rest of our preparations?"

"Yeah," she said. "Assisted by two squads of paladins, a bunch of scribes, et cetera. Caution."

McNamara nodded. "Get ready, then. You'll be leaving within the hour."

So she did. She went back to her quarters, where Arcade was busy with his own preparations. It was a spacious little thing, with a nice queen bed that she had stolen straight from one of the officer housing units upstairs. It was decorated with bits and baubles taken from her travels throughout the Wasteland – power fists, stuffed toys, pin-up calendars, magazines, and of course a little something from each of her friends. She would've had dresses shown off here and there too, but…

She shied away from that train of thought. _Best not to think about her._

She went into her room and took out a modest black briefcase labelled "VERONICA'S STUFF – DON'T TOUCH". She laid it down on the table and looked at the doctor. He was in his underwear, polishing the suit that he had used during the Battle of Hoover Dam. Veronica had to admit that he took care of himself, and it showed. She didn't find that particularly interesting, though. The armour, on the other hand – now that was a fine piece of technology.

Enclave power armour was a difficult thing to find. Most of the suits produced had either fallen into the hands of the NCR, scrapped by enterprising prospectors, or lost in the various skirmishes held against the renegades that tried to bring it back. To find one in perfect working condition was almost unheard of until the Remnants came in guns blazing at Hoover Dam. Suddenly the Wasteland had a fascination for Enclave stuff again, and the prospectors started hunting for it in droves. Arcade made sure never to show what he had to anyone else but his most trustworthy friends. Veronica wanted one of those remnant suits, but Six was reluctant to lend it to her. She guessed that her fears were justified and oh no she's thinking again. She pushed the thought away and forced herself back into the present.

"So," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Definitely not nervous," he said sarcastically. "And definitely not thinking about the risks I'm about to take going with you on this adventure to another world with the help of a previously unknown piece of alien technology discovered only a few months ago. Nope, definitely not worrying about that at all."

"How cute," she replied. "Relax, though. It can't be that bad. The files say that people have gone back and forth through it a couple of times with no adverse effects."

"Yeah, well it seems that the project obviously turned out well because nobody's been using it until you arrived."

"Well, they _tried _to use it…"

"So why couldn't they?"

"I don't know," she said. "Go ask Ibsen."

"Uh-huh. Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Yeah, yeah, doc. Hold on to your butt." She walked over to the metal cabinet that housed the suit of modified T-45d power armour that she'd nicknamed Bullet-Eater-Suit. She didn't tell anyone about the name, though. Sighing, she started undressing herself.

-=(O)=-

"How many guns do we have?"

"Enough to kill anything that might dare to stand in our way."

"Is that really necessary?"

"It's just in case, scribe. You don't need to worry- Hey! Don't touch that."

"Ow, sorry, geez."

"I said _don't touch it._"

"Don't you ever listen to instructions, Anita?"

"Shut up."

"Do you even know how to _use _a gun?"

"Yes! Of course I do! You point it at people you don't like, and you pull the trigger. Then an… uh, energy projectile comes out."

"Ow, stop that."

"You stop being wrong."

"Woah-oh!" said Veronica, who had just stepped into the gate room. "What the frigus is going on with you guys down here?"

They looked at her as one and stopped it. "Oh, uh, nothing," said a young, red-haired scribe. He immediately hid his hand behind him. "Just some friendly conversation."

"Uh huh."

"It's these fucking scribes," said one of the paladins. "They're touching and making a mess of everything. Uh, no offense."

She squinted at him. "None taken."

"More like you're amateurs at argumentation. I mean, it's not even-"

"Zip!" said Veronica. "Come on, guys. This is our first journey into an alien planet and you're already arguing? No wonder the friggin' bombs dropped. Play nice with each other guys, come on."

Arcade came up behind her and tapped her on an armoured shoulder. "Uh, is it just me or have you been doing some sort of non-swearing thing lately?"

Veronica looked at him and shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about," she whispered. She looked back at the group of assembled adventurers, smiling. "Now, I'm sure you all know the drill here?"

"Yes," said Corrick.

"Affirmative," said Anita.

The paladins and the other scribe just nodded.

"Right. Well, we don't know what we'll encounter out there but it's best for you all to stay on your guard."

"I bet it's going to be like Captain Cosmos," said one of the paladins – Brunswick, recalled Veronica. "Maybe we'll meet some alien dames and get our own space monkeys."

"Okay, first off," said Arcade. "Captain Cosmos is a comic book, and barely anything of it is based on reality. Second of all, the chances of us finding an extraterrestrial organism that looks even _remotely _human is slim-to-none, and here's why…"

Veronica just kind of drifted off as he started going on his rant. She started thinking about her belongings, wondering if she'd left something behind. She reached behind her back and touched the box that she thought she put there – yep, it was there. She was snapped out of her musings by Ibsen's voice blaring on the PA.

"Gate activation in ten seconds. Please stand back."

Arcade stopped arguing with one of the scribes – Wilson, she remembered. Tried to ask her out once, but Christine did something funny that drove him off. She couldn't remember what it was, but it must've been hilarious. She had her back to the wall like the others and started at the Stargate as it began to spin.

"Chevron one is locked in place," said Ibsen. One of the red chevrons started to glow.

"Chevron two is locked." She felt as if the room had begun to shake.

"Chevron three is locked and holding." It was getting stronger.

"Chevron four is locked and holding." She thought she heard a couple of sirens outside.

"Chevron five is locked." Okay, the room was _definitely _shaking. She tried to hold on to something but there wasn't much to hold on to.

"Chevron six is locked." Screw it. She planted her feet on the ground and stood her ground. She looked to her sides for a brief moment and saw that the others had their own struggles. Arcade, though, seemed rather calm about it all. Nothing bothered him much any more.

"Chevron seven is locked." A flash of light. A wave of some sort came out of the gate and would probably have made Veronica's hairs stand on end if she hadn't been wearing the suit. She could hear the others gasp, and she just stared at the thing in awe. It was like a curtain of shimmering, glowing water. She stepped forward, and reached the edge of the ramp before McNamara's voice cut in. "Veronica, patience. You'll have your turn soon."

"Sending in reconnaissance Eyebot now," said Ibsen. "Please remain in the gate room while surveillance is under way."

In the control room, McNamara and his pet intellectuals were looking at the Stargate in silence. They had never seen anything like this before, and the possibilities it held was not lost on them.

McNamara was deep in thought. _What would Elijah have thought about this? Jealous, perhaps._

He smiled, but tried to supress it. Elijah was obsessed with old technology, and this one was by far the oldest that they'd ever found. He was right, after all.

An Eyebot hovered into the gate room and started to do its usual thing. On several monitors they could see recordings from its multiple cameras, along with spectrograms, temperature readings, and several other graphs that served to relay whatever information it could send about wherever it is.

"Telemetry is functional," said one of the scribes.

"Environmental instruments functional," said another.

"We have a go," said Ibsen. "Send it in."

And so they did. The Eyebot fluttered up past Veronica and darted up the ramp, disappearing behind that curtain of shimmering watery light. One of the scribes was saying something, but McNamara couldn't quite make it out. From what he could discern, however, they seemed to be counting down.

"-two, one. It's live."

"Receiving telemetry," said Ibsen. "We did it."

A cheer rose up from the scribes manning the computers. Taggart turned around and silenced them.

McNamara looked at one of the screens from the Eyebot's cameras. It seemed to be dark there.

"Switching to low-light vision," said Ibsen. The feed turned black and white and suddenly it all became clear. They could see a strange, podium-like device with several symbols on it, its center emitting a strange glow that forced the camera to adjust its low-light settings whenever it passed the object. The eyebot was inside a building - a pyramid of some sort.

"All readings are positive for hospitability," said Ibsen. "Should we send them in?"

McNamara nodded. "Go ahead."

The scribe nodded. He pressed the PA button again. "Attention expedition team. You may now proceed into the Stargate. Good luck."

McNamara picked up the microphone and followed up Ibsen's message. "Make sure this was worth it, Veronica."

Veronica slid on her helmet and gave an enthusiastic cheer. "Y'hear that, guys? Let's go in!"

She ran straight into the gate and disappeared past it. The others, in contrast, took a more measured approach. They filed into the gate and walked nervously into the curtain of light. One of the nearby knights dragged a large military crate labelled "SUPPLIES" over to the gate and tossed it in. Once he was done, the gate dissipated.

The sensation was something Veronica hadn't felt before. She knew she felt something, but when she reached the other side she couldn't quite recall what it was. She was cold, though, which was even weirder. Her first moments on the other planet was one of confusion as she almost tripped from her run. She looked behind her and watched as the others stepped on through.

"Uh, guys?" said Veronica. "It's kind of, uh, dark in here."

"Anyone else feel cold?" asked one of the paladins.

"Yep," said one of the scribes – Anita, she remembered. Veronica had a crush on her once, but that was a long time ago. She couldn't quite remember her last name, but she felt as if it had something to do with something she saw…

"That was underwhelming," muttered Arcade.

"Oh shut up," said Veronica. "Nothing's ever good enough for you. Anyway, guys, let's, uh, look around."

"Secure the area," said one of the paladins. "You three, take this side. Glowinski, Alvarez and I will take this one."

"Understood," said the other paladin. They started fanning out of the room in opposite directions and started pointing at everything with guns at the ready. Arcade, leading the group of scribes, just headed towards the only other source of light in the room coming from what appeared to be a doorway. Just as he did so, the curtain of light behind them disappeared. Not before the crate just made its way through, of course.

"Those must be our supplies," said Veronica. "When the other guys are done playing Investigator, tell 'em to guard it."

"Understood," said the last scribe. Veronica couldn't recall his name, but she knew his look well enough. That will have to do, she supposed.

They came out of the pyramid into what was definitely a desert. A big sandy, dune-y desert that was absolutely disappointing to look at.

"Oh _come on!"_ shouted Veronica. "Of all the alien-ness that we could go out into, _this _is where we come out? Geez, what a rip-off."

"Look on the bright side," replied Arcade. He was holding up a Geiger counter. "This one isn't radioactive."

"I've had enough desertiness for one life. Is it that hard to ask for some variety every now and again?"

"This is an entire planet we're looking at here, Veronica. I'm sure if we venture out, we'll find some other terrain."

"Yeah, right. Since when were you one to look at the bright side of things?"

"Uhm," said Anita. "Not to interrupt you guys or anything, but shouldn't we set up camp?"

Veronica turned around and looked at her, raising her finger. "That's… a pretty good idea. Paladins!"

"The site is safe," said a paladin. "We'll hold this position until we need to get back. Just say the word."

"Convenient," said Veronica. "How _do _we get back, anyway?"

Arcade just looked at her. "I thought _you _knew."

"Uh…."

She could feel their eyes piercing daggers into her.

"I'm sure the answer is in the crate. Just… We should explore for a bit, right?"

Arcade stepped in front of her and stared straight at her. "Do. You. Know. How. To get back?"

"An answer will come up," she replied. "It's, uh… Look, let's just look around for a while, okay? I'm sure the boys and girls at the other side will send us a message or something."

"Actually-" said one of the scribes – Veronica still couldn't remember his name.

"Shut up," she said. She turned back to Arcade and gave him a facetious smile.

Arcade let go of her and turned around dramatically. "Oh. Great. Did you hear that, Brotherhood? Veronica doesn't know how to get us back!"

"I _said _I'll work on it, okay?!"

"I said _one day_, Veronica. _One day._ Who knows how long we'll be stuck here? Shit, _how do we even know if we can get back_?"

"Well, what do you _want_ me to do, doc?" she shouted. "It's not like I have a magic solution for everything!"

"You made a displacer glove out of a _toaster_," he replied. "Why don't your jury-rig something that will get us out of here?"

"_I'm not made of toasters, Arcade!_ And even _if_-"

"Hey!" shouted Corrick. "Sorry to break up the argument between the two of you radbirds, but you should go and take a look at _that_." He pointed to the top of one of the dunes. They followed him and saw a couple of figures on top of a dune – humanoid, accompanied by some sort of … Thing. They seemed to be waving with their arms and heading down towards them.

The paladins began to move. "Possible hostiles," said one of them. "Weapons at the ready!"

They began to raise their weapons and point them towards the figures. They were getting closer, and the closer they got the more human they looked. The scribes, as one, looked at Arcade.

"Uh…" he said.

"What were you saying about humanoids again?"

The paladins formed a line in front of the group and started shouting what they've been trained to shout.

"_Halt! Identify yourselves!"_

The figures shouted back in some sort of alien language. They continued moving closer, and it was clear that these aliens were, in fact, human.

"_I said HALT!"_

He pointed his weapon into the air and fired off a battery of continuous laser shots.

"_GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!"_

They got the message clear enough. The figures started scrambling to a prone position with their hands behind their heads, shouting various things that Veronica guessed would have to be cries for mercy.

The paladins surrounded the natives, continuing to point their weapons. They shouted threats and tried their best to interrogate, but neither of them understood each other. Arcade sauntered over to them and held up his hand. "Stop this!"

"You have no say in this, outsider. These could be hostile beings!"

"They're _human, _goddammit. This is _exactly _why people don't trust you – look, they don't have advanced technology on them. They're cowering on the ground and pleading for help. Do you think those are hostile actions?"

He lowered his weapon and nodded at the rest. They followed suit. "Pah. Very well, outsider. Don't come crying to us if these… whatever they are, kill you."

"Sure, whatever. Go."

They walked away. Arcade helped the natives up. They looked at him in fear and awe. This was a good time to start using the tribal contact tricks he learned from the Followers.

He pointed at himself. "Arcade. Ar-Cade."

They nodded at him, saying a couple of things in their language that he couldn't quite make out. Arcade gave them a gesture that told them to stay quiet. Veronica had sidled up behind him and was watching him work like a first contact voyeur.

"You know," said Veronica. "This might not be the best way to introduce ourselves."

"You're one to talk," said Arcade. "This is what you people have been doing for years."

"Says the-"

"_Friend!" _shouted someone nearby. They looked to the direction of the sound and saw another native waving his hands. It was a middle-aged man with a dark complexion, his hair long and tied in braids that seemed to drape themselves over his shoulder. Behind him stood a figure concealed in drab brown robes and a hood. They started walking over to him. "_We are friend!_"

Arcade was speechless. He stood there as the man came closer with his companion. Veronica held up her hand as she sensed the paladins coming over with their weapons again.

"Don't do this again, guys. Seriously."

"What the fuck?" said Arcade. "Okay, this is getting _too _weird, even for me. First we encounter aliens in a supposedly _completely _alien planet, and then we find out it's populated by _humans. _Then, this one comes rolling in, and he speaks _English._ Veronica, is this a prank?"

"Uh, no," she said. "In fact, I'm just as confused as you are. Maybe even more. I mean, hey, I'm not an expert in linguistics or anything."

The other natives started talking amongst themselves as the man got closer. He was smiling, and his companion continued to retain their mysterious nature.

"He-llo!" said the braided native. "I am Skaara. Are you friend of Danier Jackson?"

"Who?" asked Arcade.

"Well, I know _a _Jackson," said Veronica. "He's kind of a dick, though."

Skaara laughed. The other natives stood behind him, and much like the scribes they were milling about watching the two sides converse. "So, you do not serve Ra?"

"The Ancient Egyptian sun god?" asked Arcade. "Or are you talking about something else?"

Skaara laughed again. "You are funny one, yes! But it is true what you say. Ra is god! But he is cruel one, yes."

"Then, in that case, no," said Arcade.

"Good," said the robed figure. A male, definitely a male. He drew back his hood and revealed himself to be an old man, completely different from the other natives. He wore old glasses that had seen multiple impromptu repairs through the years and spoke without an accent. "Then they've finally sent help."

"Hold up," said Veronica. "First of all, what the frig is going on, and second of all, we, uh, kind of need some help too."

"Follow me," said the old man. "My name is Daniel Jackson. And for the record, I don't think I'm a dick."

"I was talking about a different Jackson."

"I got that."

"Seriously. I, uh, didn't even know you existed until just now."

"Yes, I know. No offense taken. Follow me."

Arcade was stunned. This was not what he expected at all. _How weird is this going to get?_


	3. Sunset Part 2 - Cultural Exchange

**SUNSET: PART 2 OF 3 – CULTURAL EXCHANGE**

They were greeted a lot better than they expected given the nature of their first meeting. The old man guided them past what seemed to be a massive labour camp, where they saw many of the planet's natives mining some sort of metal. At the pyramid site they left behind two of the scribes -Wilson and the one whose name Veronica couldn't recall, and a Paladin – Alvarez. There was some confusion at first with both parties, especially in regards to the power armour. Daniel and Arcade did their best to mediate the concerns by trying to get the paladins to take off their helmets as the doctor did, but they were hesitant to show vulnerability for the sake of the outsiders. Daniel explained the concept to the locals, and they seemed to understand it well enough to drop their initial attitude of intimidation towards the metal men.

The scribes were mounted on the creatures that the Daniel and Skaara had brought along with them. Arcade remarked that they looked similar to extremely mutated mammoths if you squinted hard enough, but that reference was lost to Veronica as she didn't know what a mammoth was. The others had to go on foot as the weight of power armour was too heavy for the beasts to carry. Along the way, Daniel gave them a general overview of the planet's general details: its people, their culture, and its environment. Arcade was quite engrossed with it.

They saw the city looming over the horizon. It was almost night by the time they got there, and in the sky the planet's three moons were starting to show themselves. It made for a strange sight, and evoked a burst of discussion amongst the scribes about the physics behind it all. Veronica butted in halfway through and derailed the conversation into something entirely different.

Arcade rubbed his chin as Daniel continued explaining the customs to him. "So these people have been living like this for what – thousands of years?"

"More or less," replied Daniel. "But it's not by their choice."

Arcade raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Daniel pulled his mastadge to a stop as they arrived at the city walls. "I'll tell you later. You're just in time for the harvest festival. Welcome to Nagadah."

As far as cities were concerned, this one wasn't half bad. It lacked the bustle of places like Hubtown nor the splendour and decadence of places like New Vegas and Shady Sands, but those were good things. It had a quaint, ancient feel to it that Arcade found rather pleasing. They were greeted with the sound of a horn and an assembly of what he presumed to be the town's council. They talked to Daniel for a few moments in their native language before giving them a hospitable smile.

"You are welcome here," said someone who looked to be their leader in broken English. "Any enemy of Ra is our friend."

Arcade looked at Daniel, eyebrow raised. The old man just shrugged at him.

The air around the city seemed to be one of revelry and joy. They could see children playing in the streets, some of them playing games that were familiar to the wastelanders. The natives were coming out to look and gawk at them, talking amongst themselves excitedly in their native languages. Upon catching sight of the newcomers, a couple of the children stopped playing and walked up to the Paladins and started poking at their armour, inspecting it with a sense of wonder. Daniel shooed them away with a couple of sharp and angry words in the native tongue.

"The harvest festival is in full swing," declared Daniel. He smiled and pointed at the villagers. "Why don't you come join the festivies? You will get your answers later, but for now you should enjoy yourselves."

Arcade shook his head. "Much as I'd love to, we sort of have a mission to finish and you seem to know how to get us home, so-"

"We'd love to!" exclaimed Veronica, to Arcade's dismay. "Not so often we get to visit parties, y'know? Or actual festivals, for that matter/"

Daniel gave her another welcoming smile. "Wonderful! Come, come, the party's just beginning."

Daniel had a quick word with the elders and led the group through the city to what seemed to be a gathering around a campfire. He invited them to sit down near the campfire as more onlookers gathered around them. A couple of the locals arrived with plates of food that Daniel started describing to them as they were presented.

"This one's mastadge meat," he said. "It's usually tough and sinewy, but there's a trick to it..."

Veronica bit into the meat of one of the other animals – the one that looked like a reptile, and savoured its taste for a few seconds before swallowing it. "Tastes like gecko."

Daniel finished explaining how toe at mastadge meat to the others and looked at Veronica. "Chicken, actually."

"I think those are extinct," said Arcade.

"Really?"

Arcade nodded. "It's called the wasteland for a reason."

Daniel raised his eyebrow at Arcade. One of the natives came up to him and based on her gestures, she seemed to be declaring that there was some sort of trouble nearby. Daniel gave her a quick reply and excused himself from the gathering.

"Just try to enjoy yourselves," he said.

The others nodded. The paladins, upon seeing the enjoyment the scribes and the others were having, decided that it was time to let down their guard. There was a collective hiss of released hydraulics as they took off their helmets one by one, revealing themselves to the others. Their identities garnered expressions of surprise from the natives, especially in regard to the females – this was the first time that they'd encountered women warriors.

The crowd moved on to examining them as they tried to get some dinner into them. A nearby elder caught sight of the others and started walking up to them.

"-And see, that's the thing," explained Veronica. She was holding up another piece of the reptile meat, with bits of shell still attached to it. She swallowed it before continuing her sentence. "It's like he doesn't even want us to survive. All this running, all this hiding, it's not-"

The elder waved at her. He pointed at the food and then pretended to shove a piece into his mouth. He didn't even bother to do an imaginary chew before he wore a wide smirk. "Enjoy?" he asked.

Arcade diverted his gaze from Veronica for a moment and shot a smile back at the elder. "Yes, very much. Thank you for the hospitality.

The elder gave him a grin. "You… very beautiful, yes."

The doctor didn't quite know how to respond to that. "Thanks, I guess?"

The elder gave him a couple of rapid nods and told him to wait with a hand gesture before he left them alone again.

Veronica had taken off her helmet and was also grinning at him. "Looks like you might get laid tonight."

"That seems like an extremely bad idea."

"Come on," she joked. "When was the last time you actually did it?"

"Enough not to let my base urges overwhelm me. Some of us can actually control ourselves, you know."

"You're one to talk," she murmured.

He knew what she was talking about. "That was _one time._ And weren't we talking about something serious?"

Veronica dropped her grin and sighed. "Yeah. Are you still sticking to the 'one day' deal?"

Arcade gave that some thought. "You know, I might reconsider that one. I'm still not sticking around for the long-term, however. They still need in the Followers. If circumstances were different, maybe I'd have more time to go endangering myself in needlessly ."

"You miss it," she suggested. She was smiling again.

She was right, but he didn't want to admit it. _When did we start acting like an old married couple?_

"Not really."

The elder came back followed by two of the native women wearing dresses that left all the right parts of the body to the imagination. They had their gaze locked on Arcade's face, and their expressions were one of invitation and adoration. They were talking to each other and giggling, often sneaking glances at the doctor. He felt a growing feeling of dread as they walked closer.

"You… enjoy?" asked the elder again. Somehow, his grin seemed to be bigger.

Arcade was again stumped.. "Uh…"

The elder laughed. He nodded at the two women as they took the power armor-clad figure by the arms, dragging him off somewhere without much objection. Veronica looked at the elder for a moment, but he seemed to be ignoring her. He was looking at Arcade and his potential consorts, and after chuckling to himself walked over to the other paladins. A couple of girls had taken a seat on Glowinski's lap, a situation that he seemed to be enjoying far too much.

Veronica scoffed at the entire thing. "Ugh, typical."

She followed Arcade past laughing villagers and alley parties into a dark and empty house near another campfire gathering. She saw flickers of light coming from it as candles were lit inside, and hurried to the scene. In retrospect, she'd never seen something as awkward as this.

Arcade had been made to recline in a bed with one of the women – a green-eyed, feisty one with short bobbed hair, putting his head on her lap and doting on his extremely red face. The other had long, straight hair and hummed a local mating song as she danced in front of him. She had already tossed away her top and was in the process of dropping her skirt when Veronica walked in.

"Doc!" she shouted. The girls stopped and looked at her, confused.

"Oh thank God," he sighed, relieved. He pushed away the girls and sat up. The girls started muttering as Veronica stepped inside to sit down next to him. She'd rarely seen him so flustered and non-detached. He wiped some sweat off his forehead and looked at the girls with an apologetic frown. "Sorry about that. I don't know if your culture is familiar with… you know." They just gawked at him blankly.

"You okay?" she asked.

"More or less," he said. "I've been in worse."

Veronica smirked at him facetiously. "Are you sure about that?" She jokingly put her ungloved hand on his leg, rubbing it. "Maybe…"

"Veronica!" he said, slapping her hand away.

"Okay, geez, ouch," she said, putting her hand away. She looked the girls, who were definitely looking unsure of how to handle the situation. She eyed them up and down and felt uncomfortably aware of how long it had been since she'd last had some recreation. "What about them?"

Arcade looked down and held up a hand, waving it dismissively. "I don't know. Just get them to leave me alone."

"They seem frightened."

"So comfort them."

Veronica sighed and stood up. "This is supposed to be your job, you know."

"I would, but trying to explain a culturally dissonant concept to someone who attempted to indulge in carnal relations with you might be _just _a little awkward, don't you think? And besides, I'm not an accredited psychologist."

"Hasn't stopped you before."

Arcade shot her a venomous look. "Just get them away, _please_."

Veronica just gave him a silent nod as she walked over to the girls. They were just standing there awkwardly, as if they were waiting for something."So, uh," she stammered. "Are you guys okay?"

They both looked at her as if they didn't know she was talking about. _Of course they don't._

"Okay, let's take this slow," she said. "Oh-kay?" She put up both of her thumbs and gave them a sunny smile.

They looked at each other, and then at her. Not knowing what else to do, they nodded.

"Good, great," she said. "I'm Veronica," she pointed at herself. "Ve-ro-ni-ca. What about you?" She pointed at them, one hand for each.

"Kai'ra," said the short haired one. Her voice was meek, barely more than a whisper.

"Mealah," said the other one. Veronica caught a quick glance of her naked body and immediately looked away.

"Okay, so. Kai'ra – can I call you Kai? And Mealah. Pleased to meet you both. I think you need an explanation for what the hell just happened so let's start with practical examples that you could be familiar with. You know this?" She shaped one hand into an O-shape and held up her index finger with the other. She started poking the finger into the hole the other one had repeatedly.

Their eyes widened and they were left without a response. Veronica sighed. "Well, you know sex, right?"

They were still silent in word and deed. Veronica took the initiative and pointed to Mealah's private regions, still exposed. "You know, uh, _that?_" She then pointed at the hand shaped like a hole. "It's like this."

They nodded. "Well, basically, he has this." She replaced the hole with a single finger. They nodded again.

She turned it back into a hole and poked it with her finger repeatedly again. "Well, this is sex. A measure of opposites." She put them back up. "One of that, and one of this. But sometimes…" She took out the hole and replaced it with a single finger again. "It's kind of like that. Get it?"

They looked at each other and realized what Veronica was referring to. They looked at her and nodded vigorously. Veronica smiled at them nd put a hand on each of their shoulders. As her hand made contact with bare skin, she was once again reminded of her base instincts. She tried to ignore it.

"Good, glad we got that misunderstanding over with. Wanna go back and eat-" She stopped herself."Uh, go somewhere else?" She turned her gaze back to Arcade, who she assumed had been looking at her for a while now. He gave her a knowing look and sighed.

Mealah smiled at Veronica and stepped closer, taking the armoured woman's other hand away from her companion and placing it on her own hip. Veronica was, much like the good doctor earlier, stunned by this forward display. She tried to come up with a retort, but what came out was barely a whisper.

Her train of thought tried to pick itself up. _Veronica, what are you doing?_

Her pulse was rising. She looked at the other one's eyes, and found herself enjoying the sight more than she was supposed to.

Her mind continued to hesitate. _Why are you doing this? Stop._

When was the last time? It seemed like so long ago. It _was _so long ago. She felt sharp breaths coming from the girl's lips, and opened up her own. She got closer, so close she could almost taste-

"There you are," said Daniel Jackson's voice. Veronica opened her eyes and immediately yanked herself out of Kai's old man was standing in the doorway, a silhouette standing against the nearby light of a campfire. Her face had flushed a beet red.

Daniel blinked at the scene. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Veronica shifted her gaze to the old man and let go of the other woman. "Uh, n-no. Not at all."

Daniel just nodded. He pointed at the two women with his authoritative, old-man aura. He berated them in the native language and they hurriedly picked themselves up and left the group. "Sorry about that. It's something of a custom…"

"I'm aware of it," said Arcade. "Don't think we've forgotten the answers you owe us."

"Yes, that's why I'm here," said Daniel. She looked at Veronica, who was still standing there with a blank look on her face. "Are you all right?"

She blinked a few times and nodded. "Oh, yeah. Fine. Just fine."

Daniel nodded. "You all need to get some rest. I'll have your answers for you first thing in the morning. We've given you a house for your use. If you need anything, all you have to do is call for the servants. They're all trained in English, at least a basic understanding of it. Just don't ask for anything too outlandish."

"Wait, did you just say servants?" inquired Veronica.

Daniel nodded.

"Okay. We _have _to go there."

Daniel led them to his little slice of home. It was a large thing in comparison to the city's other buildings, standing alone amidst the other clustered buildings. It had been built for Ra hundreds of years ago, but he never came to actually use it unless he was in congress with the other gods. Daniel had repurposed him into his own home and with the help of the villagers had dug out a basement level where he hid during the sun god's visits.

The others who came with them to the city had already arrived at the palace, and they wasted no time in making themselves at home. The scribes had set up a small heating station run out of microfusion cells to counteract the chilly night air that came along with deserts, and most of them were sleeping soundly in a room with an open door. They could hear laughing and cheers coming out of one of the other rooms, presumably the one that held the paladins.

"They seem to be having fun," remarked Veronica.

"I wouldn't come in there," said Daniel. "They're… How do I put this delicately…"

"Fucking?" suggested Arcade.

Daniel nodded. "And they brought along a couple of the Abydonians."

"So much for avoiding contact with outsiders," muttered Arcade.

Veronica shrugged. "If it's any consolation, we probably won't tell anyone about it once we get back. This sort of thing happens _all _the time, believe it or not. In the interests of thinning the population of horny bastards back at home, those who go outside get a few liberties compared to everyone else. The general rule is to just make sure you didn't get anyone pregnant, including yourself."

Daniel went past the sexual discussion and opened the door to their room. "All good?"

Veronica gave him a thumbs up. "Yep."

"More or less," echoed Arcade.

"All right then," said Daniel. "If you need me, I'll be in the basement. There's a trapdoor under the carpet of the western gallery. If you see anything suspicious, alert me immediately."

With that, he left the two alone in the gilded bedroom. It wasn't quite as opulent as the suite they shared back in the Lucky 38, but it was a lot less creepier, especially with the absence of big blue robots that could kill you in a second. Veronica started working on undoing her suit as Arcade started inspecting everything inside. Their only source of light was one of the doorside braziers that had recently been lit. They had a silent agreement between them to not talk about the awkward situation earlier, and they spent the rest of the night trying to stop each other from snoring all the time.

When morning came, they found a few sets of localized clothing laid out for them on one of the tables, along with a couple of bottles of what they could only assume to be alcohol. Veronica wasn't much of a connoisseur when it came to that kind of thing, but after taking a sip she immediately knew that it was moonshine. _Cass could do with teaching these guys a lesson or two about the art of brewing fine, drinky alcohol._

Their breakfast was quiet enough. Arcade and Veronica, in the interest of blending in, wore the attire given to them. The others weren't so welcoming. The paladins continued to wear their suits of T-51b armour, but that didn't stop them from being ravenous when it came to eating up everything in front of them. The scribes remained in one of the central galleries, clustered around a radio station. They were making contact with the group left behind at the pyramid.

Veronica and Arcade were sitting down nearby as they waited for Daniel. Curious about the state of the others, Veroncia took the liberty of eavesdropping.

"-signal-", said a voice from the radio. Alvarez. Her voice came out between bursts of static, her phrases often incomplete and truncated.

Anita started adjusting some dials and spoke into the microphone. "Come again, we seem to have bad reception around here."

"-ame here," replied Alvarez, again interrupted by a burst of radio static. "-so far."

"Are you all right?" asked Corrick.

"…-to report," said Wilson's voice. "You?"

"All fine here."

They spent some time exchanging pleasantries and repeating status reports until they could both understand each other. Daniel came in a few minutes into the conversation, accompanied by Skaara and another middle-aged native who wore what Arcade recognized to be a very old, Pre-War US Army helmet.

"Where'd he get that?" asked the doctor, pointing to the helmet.

"You'll find out," said Daniel. "This is Nabeh."

The man waved.

Daniel wasted no time. He sat down and got to business. "Well, there're a lot of things you need to know. I assume you've been told about the first expedition?"

Veronica shrugged ambivalently. "I've heard snippets from Ibsen, but I didn't really listen. Apparently that failed for some reason. Are you one of their descendants or something?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, I was a part of it."

Arcade raised an eyebrow. "That's impossible. That would make you over two hundred and fifty years old."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Come on, doc, we've seen older. I think. Centuries old, definitely."

"Ghouls and robobrains maybe, but not full-blooded, sane and healthy humans."

"Has it really been that long?" said Daniel. "Hm. Seems more like fifty or eighty to me."

"That sounds like a pretty wide range," said Veronica.

Daniel waved his hand dismissively. "I stopped keeping track a long time ago. Make no mistake, though. I'm old, not senile."

"Uh huh."

"Let's get back on topic here," said Arcade. "What were you saying about the first expedition?"

"Hm? Oh, right. I should probably start from the beginning…"

-=(O)=-

_Daniel overheard a couple of words coming from the expedition commander's mouth as he walked into the briefing room. "-O'Neill didn't want to take the job, no surprise there. Sunovabitch spends too much time with his family these days. I mean, I get it, Sara's a nice missus and all, but-"_

_He stopped talking and looked at him. He just gave him a curt nod and adopted the stony posture normally used by people who want things to be serious. "Doctor Jackson."_

"_Uh, hi," he said. He tried to wave without dropping the suitcase he was carrying, and failed. He picked up his briefcase and sat down. "Where's the general?"_

"_Killin' reds, probably," said Ferretti._

"_Nah, with the techs," said Kowalski. "Talkin' to the eggheads next door about this new-" he put the next two words in air quotes "-laser technology. Bunch of bullshit right there, if you ask me. Lasers are for aiming, not for shooting." He looked at Daniel and smiled. "No offense."_

"_None taken. I'm not really into the technology sector, so-"_

"_Attention!"_

_The soldiers stood up as the general entered the room. From what Daniel could remember, the man was bald, slightly chubby, and on first glance would normally be described as 'harmless' or 'bumbling'. He wasn't, however. You didn't need to look at his medals or his service record to see that he was anything but that – the hideous scar that ran through his cheek and the mutilated flesh that marred his neck proved that. This man had seen more than his fair share of action, and he was willing to take on even more._

"_At ease," said the general. The soldiers sat down. "You most likely know who I am, so let's cut straight to the chase. Doctor Jackson, tell them about the Stargate."_

-=(O)=-

When he was finished telling his story, there was a long, pregnant pause.

"Wow," said Veronica. "That's rough."

Daniel gave her a sombre nod. "You have to go back," he said. "Go back and seal up the Stargate. Earth is unprepared. We're not ready for what's out there."

"I did not sign up for this, Veronica," said Arcade. "As much as I'd love to visit non-post-apocalyptic planets, it's not worth the risk of drawing a possible alien invasion."

"How can you be sure he's telling the truth?" asked Corrick, the young red-haired scribe. "It's possible that he could just be trying to get us to give up control of the gate."

Daniel glared at him. "I know what I saw. As much as I'd love to lie about it, these aliens are undeniably real. They've kept these people oppressed and killed so many of them just to stay in power. And this isn't their only planet – for all we know there could be hundreds, thousands of worlds like this out there. Earth is unprepared. Their technology is far too advanced, far too powerful for us to counter."

"With all due respect, doctor Jackson," said Veronica, "I'm not so sure about that last part. I mean, we _have _advanced over two hundred years with our killy stuff and this right here-" Veronica pointed to her suit of power armor. "-will probably even the playing field. I mean, based on what you told us these guys have nothing more than a couple of primitive boomstick energy weapons. Granted, the spaceships and giant death glider thingies could be a problem but eh…"

"Tesla cannons and missile launchers," said one of the paladins. "If it can take down a vertibird, it can take down one of those death gliders."

Daniel frowned. "You can't be serious about this. We've been trying to fight them for _years_, and believe me when I say that they're just too powerful. You have to get out before Ra arrives again."

"Daniel!" said Skaara, who had burst into the room. He had an expression on his face that told Daniel everything he needed to know.

The old man looked at him and then to the visitors. "Speak of the devil," he muttered.

Veronica looked between them. "What's going on?"

"Look outside," he said. He stood up and walked out of the room along with a couple of natives who had snuck in while he was in the middle of the story. They seemed to be enjoying a lot of gawkers today.

"He's here," said Daniel. "He's arrived."

"Ra?" asked Arcade.

"Yes," said Daniel.

The horns of Nagadah started sounding off as the wind picked up. In the distance they could see a massive column of sand racing towards the city. Veronica had seen sandstorms before, but this one seemed to be accompanied by omens of dread and terror. She _definitely _had a bad feeling about this.

-=(O)=-

"_It's over, Doctor Langford."_

"_Don't tell me that. You have to go back. Send another team if you have to. Our people are still-"_

"_I want to get my men back just as much as you do, Doctor, but my hands are tied on this one. The government wants to-"_

"_To hell with your government and your bloody wars. How much have you spent on pointless killing machines? _This _is our best hope for the future. You can't just throw that away!"_

"_I'm sorry, Doctor. We're shutting it down." _

-=(O)=-

They took shelter inside the pyramid. The sandstorm was a tiresome thing, even with the protection offered by power armour. They huddled in the darkness and tried to make contact with the other group in the city, but there was still no response from their equipment. They couldn't quite figure out why the environment played so much havoc with their radio. It had worked fine in Wastelander sandstorms before, why not now?

"Have you fixed it yet?" asked Alvarez.

"I can't fix it if I don't know what the problem is," spat the bald-headed scribe. "Dammit Jane, I'm a scientist, not an engineer."

"I don't care," she replied. "Just get it done."

The scribe rolled his eyes and murmured curses under his breath as he continued to tinker with the radio. The air inside the pyramid had a strange stillness in it, despite the storm raging outside. Alvarez felt apprehensive about it. _There was something wrong here…_

She looked at the gate room. Inside it, she saw Wilson, holding up a chemical light and staring at the Stargate. She wondered what they would do when they got home, especially now that it had been proven that they could go somewhere else. They wouldn't have to run around the wasteland from enemies too big for them to defeat any more. For once, they might actually be safe.

Despite her optimism, she still maintained a reservoir of cautiousness. In that reservoir she felt something bad rising up. She felt like a barrel of alcohol with a fire burning next to it, crawling closer until it was ready to explode…

"Wilson!" shouted Alvarez, her rifle aimed at the empty space in front of her. She started running to the gate room. She saw flashes of what seemed to be bluish-white light, accompanied by strange sounds that reminded her of one of Lorenzo's devices back at the facility. Glowing energy projectiles started coming out of the room, some of them hitting the walls with potent explosive force. "Wilson? WILSOOOON!"

"GET OUT OF HERE!" shouted the scribe, his face illuminated by sporadic bursts of laser fire as he started shooting at big, hulking figures with glowing blue eyes in the darkness.. More of those energy shots zipped past him, and one of them eventually hit. He was made to kneel down, and within seconds he was surrounded by the aliens. A series of rings came down from the ceiling, shrouding the scribe in light before they came back up again. She raised her weapon and heard a surprisingly girlish scream nearby. That must've been the bald one. There were voices – alien, hollow. She may not have understood the language, but she knew threats when she heard them. There were more of them.

Wilson was gone. Alvarez heeded his advice and turned around. She didn't look back until she got ouf ot the pyramid. The aliens were shouting now. Glowing yellow projectiles zipped past her, most of them missing. One of them scored a direct hit on her arm, causing her to drop the radio. She grunted in pain and picked it up. She took a moment to glance behind her and saw that the aliens were following her. They had their weapons held out, firing it in disciplined volleys that compensated for their lacklustre individual accuracy.

She had to take a risk – now or never. She could flee now or lose them in the sandstorm or she could try to fight back. _No fighting, _she thought. _Too many of them. _She didn't have much time to deliberate her options. Another volley of energy shots started going past her. She stood her ground and crossed her arms in front of her. She caught two energy blasts that caused her to slide back a few feet on the sand.

"Gah!" she yelped. There was only one option now. She turned around, weapon in hand, and made good use of her leg servos.

-=(O)=-

"The Caves of Kaleemah," said Skaara. "They will not find us there."

"Right," said Daniel. "Let's go."

"Wait," said Arcade. "We can't just leave the body there."

Daniel looked at the dead Horus Guard and grimaced. "He's right. If Ra finds out that we killed another one of his warriors again, he won't hesitate to carry out his vengeance. Hundreds will die. I _told _you not to interfere with their patrols."

"I can't help it if I want to help people, okay?" she said. "I have a bad history with guys like this." She kicked the body.

"That's no excuse for acting so recklessly, young lady."

"He's right, you know," agreed Arcade. "And we can't just leave this one lying around."

Veronica gave him a sigh of annoyance. "We need to hide the body. Or better yet, just incinerate it."

Arcade shook his head and pointed a finger at Veronica. "Bad idea. We could be able to extract information from him if he's still alive."

"He's not, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Right," muttered Arcade. "But let's say for a moment that he's not. Where are we going to hide him? It's not very likely that the villagers here are willing to stash a body for us just because they're so kind. Right, Daniel?"

"Yeah," he replied. He was unsure of whether or not he should join the conversation and simply kept himself quiet.

"Why don't we bring it with us?" suggested Corrick.

Veronica looked at the young scribe. "Actually, that could work."

Daniel tried to respond. "Uh-"

They looked at him as if he had a suggestion. He cleared his throat.

"Nevermind. I don't have anything to add."

There was a short pause Veronica started talking again. "You know we can just incinerate him. Ashes are pretty hard to find if you scatter 'em, y'know."

"I still think that's a bad idea," retorted Arcade.

Veronica glared at him. "Come on, doc. It's not like anyone's going to miss him."

"Look, if you-"

"_Ahem_," interrupted Daniel. "Look, I know we need to deal with this but right now we need to hide."

"Okay, fine," said Veronica. "We'll _carry _the body to the cave of California-"

"Kaleemah," corrected Daniel.

"Sure, whatever. Happy now, doc?"

Arcade shrugged. "It's better than nothing."

"Always the perfectionist," she muttered. "Glowinski, pick up that body and let's go."

-=(O)=-

_An energy blast zipped past him and hit a nearby pillar as he ran. He slid into cover beside Kawalsky and his men and fired his pistol blindly over the fallen slab. The sound of the guns was deafening, and he could barely make out what the soldiers were saying._

_He must have zoned out, because the next thing he remembered was Kawalsky shaking him violently. "-JACKSON! Can you hear me?"_

_He stared at Kawalsky and blinked a few times. "What?"_

"_You have to run. Run as fast as you can. Get to Nagadah, don't let these fucks see you."_

_His eyes widened. "What?" _

"_We're going to die, Jackson. Whatever you do, don't let them find Earth."_

"_Wait-"_

_He pulled out a grenade and tossed it to Ferretti, who sat with his back to the slab after taking one energy shot too many. The wounded man smiled at Jackson and gave him a thumbs up from a bloodied hand. The other remaining soldiers followed their officer's example. They had each taken out their explosives, clutching them and bringing them close to their chests. Some of them were praying._

_Kawalsky pulled his pin. The others followed suit. "GO!"_

_He ran._

-=(O)=-

They had set up a temporary base camp on a small family settlement close to the caves, with landmarks notable enough for the lone paladin to discover once she got near. Inside the main house, the expedition was staring at the body they'd bought with them from the city. The family holed themselves up in one of the smaller buildings upon Daniel's request. Once in a while the patriarch would come by and offer them some food and refreshment, but after a while the old man told him to stop doing that. They didn't see much of him after that.

Glowinski pulled off his helmet and stared at the dead warrior's face. He had some sort of mark on his forehead and his eyes were still open, locked into an expression of shock that he had during Veronica's devastating punch.

Veronica tilted her head at the sight and pointed at him. "Okay, so _they're _human too."

"Not exactly," said Daniel. "Look."

Daniel unfurled a cloth that was draped over the dead warrior's belly. They saw that an X-shaped cavity had been carved into his skin.

"That doesn't look like-"

Daniel wrapped a cloth around his hand and shoved it into the cavity.

"-it's exactly sanitary," continued Arcade. _Nobody ever listens._

Daniel ignored his complaint. He moved around the hand inside the warrior's stomach until he managed to grip something. They could hear an annoying, high-pitched scream that grated on their nerves.

"God, that sounds awful."

Daniel held up his other hand as he continued rummaging through the stomach. After a few seconds of it he managed to pull out a small, white, writhing creature that looked like a serpent with fins at its head. It had glowing red eyes and hissed maliciously at everyone.

Veronica looked at the worm. "What the hell is that thing?"

"This is a Goa'uld," said Daniel.

"Ghouled?"

"Goa-Uld," said Daniel. "They're the aliens."

Veronica walked up to Daniel and knelt down in front of him, looking at the alien-thing curiously. Daniel tried to pull it away, but Veronica held up her hand. The thing was snapping at her, trying to break free of the old man's grip.

"Veronica," said Arcade. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Shush it, Captain Obvious. Geez, that thing's creepy."

Daniel dropped the creature and stood up, looking down at it with contempt. "Whenever they take control of a someone, nothing of the host remains. The only thing you can do is kill it before it propagates."

"Wait, so this thing can control people?"

"I don't know the exact science behind it, but more or less yes."

Brunswick and Glowinski burst into the cave followed by a frightened Corrick with their weapons loaded and pointing upwards. "We found Alvarez. She's bringing company."

Veronica stopped staring at the worm and looked at them. She tossed away her "I'm learning things" attitude and replaced it with her "let's kill something" one. "How many?"

"Four of them, at least. They're carrying energy weapons of some sort."

Veronica nodded and sighed as she put her helmet back on. "We know. Daniel, do you know how to use one of those things?"

Daniel picked up the staff weapon. He made a clumsy attempt and putting it into an upright position before he just decided to carry it with both hands. "Sort of."

"Good, we'll need you to point it over there and shoot whatever comes through. Doc, everyone else, you know the drill. Try not to aim for vital spots and keep them alive."

Brunswick had changed out of his power armour and lent it to one of the scribes that had training in power armour. Like Veronica and Arcade, he had dressed himself in the local attire. He wore muted tones of brown that matched the desert's sandy colours, and after a few modifications it served to be adequate camouflage. He was perched atop one of the houses with his Wattz laser rifle, ready to take down any enemy stupid enough not to hide behind cover. There was another sniper, but she remained on the ground with her gauss rifle. Her style favoured a more direct approach.

The other paladins went for the trusty approach that favoured the use of overwhelming force when it came to wiping away potential resistance. They stood behind makeshift barricades in front of the homestead with their weapons at the ready, listening intently to the comms as they waited for Alvarez's voice.

They heard her after half-an-hour of waiting and idle conversation. "Look alive, folks," said Veronica.

Alvarez seemed to be running like a truck, with dust plumes trailing behind her as she continued to run. They could hear heavy breaths over their comms and knew that she'd been doing this for a while. Behind her, they saw a squad of jaffa that had been hard at work following her. They had stopped firing a long time ago, focusing instead on chasing down the lone warrior they'd found at the pyramid.

Alvarez saw the building that had been described to her and her heart skipped a beat. Some friends, finally. She slowed down for a moment, and in a moment of vulnerability took off her helmet. That was all they needed to get her. The jaffa stopped, and the lead one shouted an order. They raised their staff weapons, pointed it at the paladin, and opened fire. They all fired at once, and by luck one of them managed to hit her exposed head. Her head popped like an overripe cherry, and what remained of her came crashing down with a soft metallic thud in the sand, her helmet falling beside her.

Shock. Anger.

"SUPPRESSING FIIIRE!" shouted the lead paladin. They marched forward and started opening fire with reckless abandon. The jaffa had been so caught up in catching Alvarez that they forgot to look beyond her. They tried to avoid the storm of bright red lights spat out from several gatling lasers by ducking, but one of them wasn't fast enough. His torso was cut into several pieces which landed on the sand still smoking and with edges cut like they'd been slashed with the sharpest knives.

The others took their cue. Brunswick put his crosshairs on one of the Horus Guard's heads and pulled the trigger. The beam pierced through the eye part of the warrior's helmet, turning it into melted slag. The guard slumped over, dropping his staff with his face buried on the ground.

Veronica's voice made itself heard amidst all the chaos. "GUYS! We need 'em alive. Go for disabling shots, not killy ones. Cut off their legs or arms or whatever, just don't-"

The other sniper opened fire. The gauss shot headed straight for another Horus Guard and tore his staff weapon to pieces. The explosion caused him to scream in agony as his face caught on fire. He tried to put it out with sand.

Veronica took a moment to watch the sight and sighed. "-kill them. Got it?"

"Understood," they replied.

The three remaining guards tried to mount a resistance between bursts of gatling laser fire, but most of their shots went wide. The snipers heeded Veronica's advice and started firing on their legs, crippling two of them before the heavy weapons team finished reloading. After that, the last remaining jaffa stood up and held up his arms in defeat, deactivating his helmet and shouting something in the alien tongue.

"He says he surrenders," declared Daniel.

-=(O)=-

_Daniel loved to sit on the wall and watch the stars. Sometimes he brought along a candle and a notebook and wrote down what he saw, what he remembered. Although he was never that good of an artist he sometimes drew. Sometimes Sha're came up there too, and he taught her which one was which – at least the stars he could remember. If he couldn't, they named the stars together. He often wondered which one was home, and at times he thought about what things had changed since he left._

_When was the last time they went up here together? It seemed like so long…_

"_Daniel?"_

_He looked behind him and nodded at his brother-in-law._

"_Are you all right?" he asked._

"_She's gone, Skaara."_

"_I know."_

"_I let him do it."_

"_We couldn't risk-"_

"_She looked at me," interjected Daniel. "She saw me there. Just before they shot her, she saw me. She smiled at me, Skaara. I'm not ever going to see that again."_

_Skaara saw the look on Daniel's face and knew that there was nothing he could say to help him. He just nodded at him. "Do you need some time alone?"_

_Daniel never bothered to look at him. "I don't know."_

_Skaara nodded at him. "Maybe you do. If you need us, we will do whatever we can to help." He gave him a brotherly hug and left him alone to deal with his thoughts._

_Daniel looked up at the sky once more. There was still one star that needed a name._

-=(O)=-

Veronica took out the suitcase that had been strapped to her back and set it down on the table. Once it popped open, a mechanism opened up to reveal three of her favourite gloves – the displacer glove Pushy, a superheated Saturnite fist she called Brandy, and a modified zap glove she called Theodore. There was a hiss of steam as Veronica took off her regular power fist and replaced it with Theodore. She slid a power cell into the zap glove's energy compartment and smiled as it started emitting a low, electric hum. They were in the caves now, along with the warriors they'd dragged into the cave.

Only one of them survived unscathed save for a few laser wounds, but Arcade patched him up well enough. That was the extent of the hospitality they gave, and the jaffa soon found himself tied to a rock with a very smiley Veronica staring him straight in the face. Daniel Jackson stood beside her, ready to translate what she said.

"Hi," she declared. "My name's Veronica. Ve-ro-ni-ca. You're going to tell me exactly what I want to know."

The warrior spit on her face. "May Ra call down fiery judgement upon you, whore."

Veronica frowned and wiped the spit away from her face. "That's not very nice."

He just glared at her. She found that annoying, so she took her glove hand, turned on the zap, and poked him with a finger. The warrior jumped from the sudden jolt of electricity. Veronica gave him a smug smirk. "Now, then. Are you going to cooperate?"

"This is insane," commented Daniel Jackson.

"Welcome to the Wasteland," said Arcade. "Now it's time we tell _you _about _us._"


	4. Sunset Part 3 - Storm the Castle

**SUNSET: PART 3 OF 3 – STORM THE CASTLE**

Daniel Jackson pulled the hammer of the old assault rifle and tossed it to his brother-in-law. Skaara was wearing a set of clothing that would have fit right in the Wasteland: an old Army helmet matched with makeshift bandoliers and holsters layered over a set of local desert cloths that blended perfectly well with the sands around Nagadah. Skaara paced back and forth with a leisurely place in front of the villagers gathered in front of him, explaining in loud and clear terms exactly what they would be up against.

Veronica's interrogation of the captive Horus Guard had yielded productive results despite Daniel's objections, and one thing was made clear: Ra was getting weaker. He had been waging a long and bloody war against his brother, another Ancient Egyptian god or series of gods, who by some stroke of coincidence had attacked him almost immediately after the first expedition from Earth. Daniel found himself relieved by this piece of information, as it meant that the sun god wasn't going to attack his home planet any time soon.

He had come here to gather manpower meant to replace the warriors and slaves that he'd lost over the course of the conflict. Skaara, despite some resistance from Daniel, suggested to his comrades that now was the time to strike. They had a clear and present opportunity to finally break the shackles that had chained them for so long, and with the help from the queer alien knights they would snatch a decisive victory. Daniel insisted that they weren't ready, but after a quick talk with Arcade Gannon he finally agreed to follow through with the idea of open revolt.

They broke open the weapons crates brought along by the first expedition and started to sing the songs of freedom Kawalsky had sung to them when they first came. The guns had aged surprisingly well despite the amount of time they were kept hidden. Although some of them were prone to jamming and required a lot of retroactive maintenance, they worked surprisingly well and they were still just as deadly.

The tension came to a burst twelve days ago. A recruitment patrol came to Kabarah, a small agricultural village that lay a few miles away from Nagadah. They bore the voice of Ra and enticed all of the able-bodied males in the village to join his army. When they encountered a lack of volunteers, they attempted to take the men by force. The villagers responded in kind, and promptly surprised the jaffa with copious amounts of gunfire. Their victory was short-lived. One of the warriors survived and ran back to the pyramid to alert Ra of the treachery, and in response he scrambled his death gliders to teach his unruly subjects a lesson. He vacated the _ha'tak _of his rank-and-file soldiers, sending them out into the desert to keep order wherever they could.

His efforts were futile; the people had taken enough of his tyranny. Even though they were armed with inferior weapons and equipment, revolts popped up like bubbles in a boiling pot across the sands, and blood was spilled. What they lacked in weapons and training, they made up for in determination, numbers, and creativity. It was the classic underdog story, but Arcade observed that the underdogs don't often win in reality. They matched up against Ra's ground forces in battle well enough, but they were sitting ducks in the open when the death gliders came out. They had nothing good enough to take those out. The first expedition's rocket launchers had decayed away their usefulness a long time ago, the staff weapons were too inaccurate, and the Brotherhood only carried enough heavy weapons to be shared by the paladin squads.

After the first attack on Nagadah, the Caves of Kaleemah had turned into the revolution's hub and nexus. It had turned from a quiet refuge into a busy hub of war activity where weapons were exchanged, guns were cleaned, Veronica gave crash courses on jury rigging, and people talked about how excited they were to fight for freedom. Hundreds had died in the two weeks of conflict, but it was for a good cause. Arcade found that line of thinking unsettling, but Daniel tried his best to mediate his concerns. He came to this planet armed with the idea of freedom and liberty for the people, and he'd spent decades spreading this idea as best as he could. It was only understandable that some of the locals felt this would be the biggest event of their entire lives, and they were probably right.

In the city of Nagadah itself, the chilly night air was alive with the sound of gunfire. Arcade knelt over the corpse of a dead Horus Guard who had taken a direct hit from Veronica's saturnite fist. The back of the warrior's head looked like a melted salad composed of flesh, brain, and twisted metal. He would have puked, but he'd seen a lot worse during his travels.

He heard Veronica's voice, which had a quality to it that reminded him of someone trying to play telephone with a tin can. There was a hiss, followed by a sharp sucking sound. A click. An low, buzzing, electric hum. She was replacing power fists. "How long have we been here, doc?"

Arcade picked up the dead jaffa's staff and turned to look at Veronica. "Two weeks."

He imagined the scribe raising her eyebrows behind the stolid mask of her power helmet. "Has it really been that short? Feels like we've been here for years…"

Déjà vu. She'd said that before, when they were trudging with Six and Boone through Fiend territory. _Has _it really been that long?

The doctor shrugged. "That's my count. We seem to have a knack for getting dragged into situations like this whenever we're together."

Veronica chuckled. "Now you know why I didn't join the Followers."

Arcade held up the staff weapon and handed it over to Veronica. "Go."

Veronica took the staff and held it near its midsection, the part that housed its power source. She tightened her grip until there was a loud, solid, crack. She threw the bottom handle part behind her and took out a contraption from her glove box. It looked to be the shell of an AER-9 laser rifle with most of its barrel replaced by a long, oblong mould where the staff end fit just right. She shoved the staff part into the mould and tinkered around with it until there was another click, followed by a low electric hum. A green LED light flicked on the side of the stock, emitting a faint glow that meant that the device was working.

She nicknamed the weapon that resulted from the union an "Eeper" – a convenient nickname for its acronym IPR: Improvised Plasma Rifle. Although it packed marginally more punch compared to the Earth-made Urban Plasma Rifle, it was a notch below the Winchester P94 and had a hell of a lot more recoil. It had the advantage of relying on the power source that the aliens used for their weapons as opposed to microfusion cells, which helped to conserve what ammunition Lorenzo deemed appropriate to assign to the expedition.

She handed the weapon to Arcade and gave him a silent nod. The sun was rising, and they needed to get back to their quaint little HQ. Nabeh was waiting for them nearby, mounted on a mastadge that wore a specialized saddle that Veronica cooked up in the first few days of the revolt. The beast of burden had been outfitted with a makeshift turret composed of dual staff cannons designed to fire together through one trigger device and with sights designed to be accurate up to seventy metres. It looked like an egg-beater, which earned it the nickname of Egg-Crusher as logic demanded it.

Their walk back was rather uneventful. Along the road, they encountered a rebel patrol assisted by one of the paladin squads, commanded by Glowinski. He had a modified Tesla Cannon mounted on his shoulder, and on his side was another paladin who carried a plasma caster. Veronica waved at them.

"Guys gonna have fun?" she asked.

"We're hunting death gliders," said Glowinski. "Any progress on the pyramid?"

"None so far," replied Arcade. "It's locked up tight. We won't be able to go in without a full frontal assault, and with the gliders deploying so close by it'll be tough to get through."

"Shame," muttered the paladin. After another brief bout of courtesies the groups went their separate ways.

They encountered Daniel standing in front of a large table, reviewing a map with his arms crossed in front of him. He pointed to a couple of locations and asked a nearby war-dressed native about it, and his responses varied. Sometimes he nodded, sometimes he frowned, and sometimes he just shrugged. Arcade assumed that he had his hands full trying to manage everything that wasn't related to killing people. Skaara seemed to be competent enough when it came to dealing with all of the strategizing. He knew that much after their first chess game – he was a surprisingly tough opponent.

"Daniel!" greeted Veronica cheerily. "How's progress?"

The old man gave Veronica a brief glance with an expression of muted interest. "Tough," he said, before turning back and discussing something with a man that seemed important in the war effort. He seemed angry now and began exchanging what sounded like scolding words to the helmeted native.

Veronica gave a muffled sigh. "Looks like everyone's busy these days."

"Hardly surprising," remarked Arcade.

Scribe Corrick slid out of one of the cave corridors and waved at the duo. "Veronica, Doctor Gannon, we've established contact with Earth."

They looked at each other and then at the scribe. They hurried over and followed him to a wide room where the scribes and the other paladin squad were clustered around an extensively-tinkered-with radio post.

-=(O)=-

A squad of vertibirds flew over her head and slowed down to land inside the derelict air base that lay so far out in the middle of the desert. She was no stranger to such locations – in some ways, they actually felt like home. Flanked by the cyberdog and the eyebot, she walked through the dry Nevada sands and set out to do her job. It was time to deliver the message once more.

-=(O)=-

"You're coming in clear," said Ibsen's voice through the radio. There was a hint of distress in it, but Veronica just assumed that to be concern about their wellbeing. "Are you all right? How's the expedition going?"

Veronica wasted no time with what she needed to do. "We need help," she declared. "Send in a lot of paladins and energy weapons and tell them to kill anything with an animal head on it. We also need guns, and we need them _now_."

"Slow down, Veronica. What's going on?"

Veronica looked at the others, nodded, held in her breath, and told him. The other members of the group butted in from time to time to correct erroneous details or to ask about something, but other than that Ibsen seemed to get the story pretty well. Halfway through they heard McNamara's voice, who invited Veronica to continue speaking.

Once all was said and done, they were all left there waiting for a response. After a few minutes of what they could only assume to be frantic conversations on the other side between the Elder and the scribe.

"We'll send in whatever help we can," said McNamara. "The second group will go through the gate in exactly five and a half hours. They'll be expecting you the moment they step through the gate."

Glowinski butted in. "Elder, it's a likely possibility that the first beings they'll encounter once they step through will be hostiles. I would advise that you give them as much firepower as they can carry."

"We'll keep that in mind," replied the elder. His voice faded into static. The conversation was over.

Half an hour later, Veronica studied the layout of the pyramid etched down on a piece of sand in front of her. After her frantic discussion with the top guns through the radio, she was sure that she'd manage to secure some sort of help. She assumed that once McNamara would be extremely sceptical about everything and would probably only send a couple of squads to help out, at most. It wasn't exactly all the cavalry she would have wanted but any help was good help.

That left her ragtag group of would-be godslayers in need of a plan. Its nature was in part assassination and part rescue mission. Assassination because killing Ra and taking control of the extremely valuable technological asset that was his alien mothership would score them major brownie points with the big brains back on base, and rescue mission because there was a slim chance that the two scribes present at the pyramid during Ra's arrival were still alive. They needed to take control of the pyramid for that, and it wasn't something they could do easily if those death gliders were around.

"Did we even take any of them down yet?" asked Veronica.

"A few," said one of the paladins. "The teslas knock 'em right out of the air, but the targeting has to be timed precisely and delicately. There's little margin for error."

"Great," she said. "We've got that going for us."

"What about the Horus Guards?" asked Daniel. "Ra's not just going to let us waltz in there. Based on what we know, he still has most of his elite guard stationed there. Our ammunition stores are dwindling and we're spread thin trying to fight back on a lot of fronts. If you're going for a frontal assault, we won't be able to help you much."

Veronica gave him a comforting smile. "Oh, don't worry about that one. And we haven't really been decided whether or not we want to do a frontal assault. To be honest, the idea's kind of…"

"Stupid," finished Arcade.

"Yeah." Veronica nodded and stood silent for a few seconds. "In any case we need a good plan. Something that has a pretty good chance of not getting us killed. We have to time it exactly when backup arrives. Any suggestions?"

They ran through a dozen suggestions on the plan and by process of elimination eventually settled on a general means of actions: infiltration. They hammered out the fine details and preparation over the next four hours and by the time they arrived at the outskirts of the pyramid they had less than an hour left. Veronica kept track of the time from McNamara's promise through a borrowed wristwatch that she put on her wrist, and barring any wacky spacetime concerns they should arrive just as he said they would. Or so she hoped.

Before they left, Skaara walked up to Daniel and gave him something wrapped in an old, white cloth.

"_What's this?" _he asked.

"_A reminder of old times," _said Skaara. _"Use it when you fight for our freedom."_

He unwrapped the cloth and found a well-aged, barely-rusted military combat knife. There were two initials etched on its hilt – "C.K.". Kawalsky. This was Kawalsky's.

"_You've kept this?" _asked Daniel, inspecting the knife.

Skaara nodded. _"I believe that now would be an appropriate time to use it. When you come face to face with Ra, remember the warrior that gave up his life to keep us safe from that tyrant. Remember the man who sacrificed himself to save your life."_

Daniel smiled at him and hid the knife in one of his robe's pockets. _"Thank you for the thought, Skaara."_

The revolutionaries waved them goodbye and cheered them on as they came out into the cold night air. When they got there it was almost midnight. The pyramid was illuminated by bright blue lights coming from the staves that were held by Ra's Horus Guard. They circled the immediate area in patrols groups of three, watching for anything suspicious. The outer parts of the territory also had patrols, but they only had two men each, presumably to conserve manpower.

The expedition team ran into one of the teams on the way to the vantage point, and once they were subdued Veronica took the opportunity to coax some additional information out of them. They weren't wearing the trademark animal helmets. She didn't get much out of them, save for a new bit of information concerning Ra's state of affairs. He was apparently planning to leave the planet within the next few days if the population continued to resist, taking the Stargate with him.

"_That's puzzling_," remarked Daniel. "_He already knows he's losing. Why hasn't he left yet_?"

"_We are not privy to such information_," said one of the guards. _"He has been acting strangely as of late."_

Daniel nodded. _"I see. Do you believe that the Goa'uld are gods?"_

The guard didn't know how to respond to the question. He tried to formulate a response several times before he settled on something. _"No other beings are capable of such sorcery."_

The other guard let out a deep, throaty laugh and spat blood on the sand. He shot a contemptuous look at his comrade. _"Infidel," _he cursed. _"Ra will cast you down for your doubt." _He looked to his interrogators and let out a deep, throaty laugh. _"He will cast you ALL down! Come the next day, once he-"_

Veronica cut him off with another punch to the face. "Shut up, please."

Daniel stood up and pointed to the guard that had just insulted them. "Kill that one," he said. "Set the other free."

Veronica raised her eyebrow at him. "Are you sure about that?"

"I'm sure," he said, looking back to the one he'd just said not to kill. _"I want you to run. Cast off your allegiance to Ra and hide. Look for Skaara, tell him I sent you."_

They let him go and he ran. Arcade executed the impertinent one with a shot to the head from his Plasma Defender, and the group eventually dragged him off somewhere nearby and shot him with their energy weapons until his body was completely disintegrated or vaporized.

Arcade crossed his arms as the others were busy shooting the body. "You seem rather nonchalant about this."

"He's too far gone to save," said Daniel coldly. "The less of them that live, the better off we'll be. It's for the greater good."

"That's an unsettling thought."

"It's a terrible, I know, but there are a lot of atrocities that still need to be answered for." Anger was present in his voice. It was subtle, but it was there. "It won't stop until they're all gone. Some of them are good people, true, but they're a rarity. The less devour they are, the better."

"Right…" muttered the doctor. Where did that comre from? "We're pressed for time. Come on, folks, let's go."

Once the body had been dealt with, they soldiered on and eventually arrived at a dune overlooking the pyramid. The guard patrol hadn't seen them yet, and it looked like they were in a good position to do what they needed to do. One of the armoured scribes surveyed the area with his power helmet's night-vision mode, and upon seeing the coast was clear they started going over the details of their plan once more.

Veronica adjusted her hood and made sure her power fist was concealed as best as a giant mechanical hand weapon could be. _The stage is set. The show's about to start._ _Please don't be a flop. _"How are we going to get up again? Giant ring things, right?"

"More or less," said Daniel. He held up an alien device that looked like a dark piece of jewelry that someone could put on a piece of armour. "I press this, stand in the middle of a ring, and stone rings come out of the pyramid ceiling. That's how it worked the first time, it's probably going to work now."

_Even more ifs. _Veronica just nodded along and looked at the others. "Ready?"

Save for two of the scribes, they had decided to forgo power armour and went with local wear that best suited their needs for looking as inconspicuous as possible. They were all given the standard hood-and-robe treatment, an arrangement that was accommodating when it came to concealing weapons no bigger than a rifle.

They came up to the pyramid in the way that Daniel instructed – two columns shrouded in robes, murmuring a series of words in the native language that apparently had some sort of sacred significance. The guard patrol saw this and let them through, which meant they only had the guards at the doorway to jostle through before they found themselves inside.

The guards came up to them and started saying something in the native language. Veronica looked up at them and said the thing Daniel had taught to her. He said something again. She repeated what Daniel said. The other guard was making rounds with the others and they repeated the same words. They let the group through, but Veronica felt that they were suspicious. Why did she feel that something was going to go wrong?

She heard one of the guards behind her shout. They must have spotted one of the folks sporting a weapon, because the next thing she knew they were shouting and pointing their staff weapons at everyone. Another group of guards appeared from the direction of the gate room in a rush with their weapons raised as well. _Way to jinx it, Veronica._

Veronica drew back her hood and threw back her cover. She raised the hand that wore Brandy, her special superheated Saturnite fist, and brandished it in front of the guard. _We've gone off the script. Time for improv. It's like NCRCF all over again.._. "Screw it, this isn't working. Kill 'em all!" She ran forward and punched the guy. The fist connected with a resounding clanging sound, followed by a twisted, metallic scream.

Even though she wasn't looking at him, she could still feel Arcade's stern, disappointed gaze digging into her. It seemed like he had a supernatural ability to criticize every badly-thought-out action she did. She knew he was right, but sometimes she just let her emotions get the best of her. The cost of living in the moment, she supposed. He was still going to back her up in a fight no matter what, criticism aside. He had pulled out his Q-35 Matter Modulator and had already begun spitting out controlled bursts at the big bad animal men.

The Brotherhood might be terrible at stealth, but if there's one thing they're good at it's killing people. The dark building was illuminated by a contrasting array of lights: yellow from the energy staves, red from the lasers, green from the plasma, and sometimes orange from Veronica's repeated punching. The outside guard patrol had joined the fight, but their shots flew everywhere except towards their targets. The other guards had similar success with their attempts.

Veronica recalled what Daniel said to her during the opening days of the revolution. The staff weapons were made for intimidation, a symbol that encapsulated the justification for the existence of the Jaffa. They were big, noisy, and to the unenlightened mind they seemed to be work on magical principles. They struck terror into the people they wanted to rule over, and it worked, most of the time. This was one of the rare times where it _didn't _work. The expedition had long been familiar with energy weapons. They lived with them, practiced with them since childhood, and sometimes even slept with them. Unless it was mounted on a gun chassis like Veronica's IPR, the Ma'Tok was nothing to them but a rather fanciful, archaic-looking toy of a weapon.

She took a pause from the punching and saw that one of them was murmuring something into a sphere-like device of some sort, but Arcade interrupted him by destroying the object with a well-aimed plasma bolt. The explosion caused the guard to stumble backwards, which gave Veronica the opportunity she needed to punch him with a superheated fist. Once he was on the ground she looked at Arcade and gave him a thumbs-up. He nodded at her and took aim at another warrior.

The battle was going pretty well, failed infiltration attempt aside. The Horus Guards were in complete disarray and soon only two of them were left in a fighting state. They dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. Veronica looked into the gate room and saw that it was not, in fact, over.

Ra poured a wave of warriors down on the planet through his transporter rings. They were clustered tightly in a circle, but as soon as the rings lifted they filed out into an arrow formation pointed towards the exit. The one in the middle, their leader, shouted a couple of orders to the guards flanking him. Acting as one they began marching forward and opened fire with rhythmic precision. The energy projectiles ripped through the air like a glowing wave of destruction.

Arcade caught them while they were setting up and immediately shouted for the others to duck. One of them – Brunswick, wasn't fast enough. He caught a direct hit and his body suddenly found itself going everywhere at once, showering his comrades and nearby enemies in blood and gore. His fellow sniper panicked and started hunkering down behind one of the broken pillars. She'd gone hysterical, crying and moaning incoherently for the fallen one.

"GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!" shouted Veronica, attempting to regain control of the situation. "We still have a bunch of people to kill!"

"He's dead!" said the sniper. She saw her cradling Brunswick's corpse. "He's dead, goddammit, he's dead!" She started sobbing. Near her, Veronica saw Arcade applying first aid to Glowinski. The paladin had taken a shot to the torso and it looked like he wouldn't be able to take another.

This left just her, two other paladins, and Arcade in the fight. Daniel and the scribes wouldn't have a chance of surviving if the group kept going with their staff weapon volleys, and it looked like it was up to the four of them to be the heroes. They only had a second or so to retaliate between volleys as the Horus Guard formation advanced, which wasn't much of an advantage. Their march was slow but unstoppable.

Veronica grumbled to herself and checked the timer on her wrist. Fifteen more seconds. If they could just hold out a little more…

"Veronica!" said Arcade's voice. Two shots zipped past him and one hit his pillar. He decided to duck and take cover behind a fallen one for the sake of safety.

"Looks like we underestimated these guys," she said. She had taken cover behind a fallen pillar and tried to fire off a couple of shots from her laser pistol inbetween the staff salvos. She wouldn't dare look for fear of coming down with a sudden case of head explosion.

Ra sent down another squadron of his warriors. After the rings went up, the group stared to fan out and took cover behind the first group's formation. They coordinated with them and took aimed shots between the first group's volleys. The sniper had done a very un-sniperlike thing and took her head out of cover while she was trying to score off an angry shot at the arrow formation's leader, and in the end she followed the same fate as the one she'd been grieving for earlier.

_Ten seconds._

A paladin tried to unleash a barrage from dual-wielded eepers. Both of his shots missed and he was struck down by the next volley. How many of them were left?

_Five._

She looked at Arcade. The next wave missed him by a hair, and it looked like the pillar was about to collapse at any moment. The first chance he got, he sprinted for cover and headed where Glowinski was.

_Four._

She looked at Glowinski. He had fallen unconscious clasping what looked to be his old lucky charm, a small drained energy cell.

_Three._

They were getting closer. She tried to fire off a laser shot, but one of the second-group warriors saw her. The shot grazed the pillar she was hiding behind and threw up a small cloud of dust. She coughed and decided that doing that again would be a bad idea.

_Two._

She looked at the room that housed the Stargate. There was music playing in her head, a couple of lyrics that encapsulated her thoughts for the moment. _Luck, please be a lady tonight…_

_One._

As far as guardian angels went, the expedition found themselves in the hands of a most unlikely group of saviours. Instead of the heavily-armoured, gatling-laser-toting knights they expected, they got something far more ominous. A troop of PDQ-88b Securitrons, Mark II rolled out of the shimmering curtain of water with faces of the Pre-War All-American GI displayed proudly on their monitor screens. There were four of them, and they came in with their arm-mounted G-28 grenade launchers already raised.

"Hostiles identified," said one of the robots. A compartment opened up on the top of their monitors, housing what seemed to be a new addition to the unit: a laser emitter. They each designated their targets and painted their heads with bright green dots. "Open fire."

And then it all happened at once.

The most recent wave that Ra sent down immediately found themselves caught on the receiving end of a grenade launcher barrage. A few seconds later nothing was left of them save for occasionally-recognizable bits of what used to be perfectly healthy internal organs. The leader of the arrow formation was alerted to the deafening sound of explosion clusters and immediately ordered his troops to turn around. The other group had already started firing at the Securitrons, but they achieved limited success.

Seeing this as her chance, Veronica leapt out from behind cover with her fist ready and rushed the nearest jaffa warrior with a superheated uppercut. Arcade went up from his prone position and knelt, aimed his Q-35 Matter Modulator at another warrior and pulled the trigger. Two scribes, clad in the paladins' armour appeared at the doorway, each toting a gatling laser and a plasma caster respectively. Daniel appeared behind them wielding one of Veronica's latest eepers. Although they had little training when it came to such weapons, the amount of targets in front of them proved more than enough to at least hit _something_. They pulled the triggers and spit out glowing Death in Technicolor.

The arrow formation broke like it had been cracked over someone's leg. Veronica, after her initial uppercut, immediately dived for cover again to avoid all the new lethal projectiles flying through the air. Arcade's plasma bolt vaporized his target into a pile of goo and went critical, causing a small explosion that knocked back the two guards nearest him. The leader of the formation was cut down by a combination of lucky laser shots and fell down yelling something in the alien language. The Securitrons had switched to their X-25 gatling lasers and terminated everything with an animal helmet that stood out in the open as they rolled towards the exit.

The surviving jaffa did their best to mount a resistance. A group of three broke off from the arrow and scrambled to cover behind some pillars. One of them managed to end up right next to Veronica.

"Hi," she said.

The Horus Guard was at first unsure of how to react. He raised his staff weapon and tried to strike her with its butt. Veronica caught it in mid-air and cracked it with her power fist. The top half fell down with glowing red embers at its bottom. She then stared at the warrior with an unsettlingly wide grin and quickly held his wrist in a tight, augmented grip. The superheated fist did its work and started cooking his flesh. His helmet-filtered scream sounded rather odd, and definitely not intimidating. She didn't want to relish in the pain, though, and did the merciful thing. Once the flesh was soft enough she ripped off the man's hand and used the severed thing to slap him until he was reduced to a quivering wreck of damaged machismo.

Arcade stopped her mid-slap. "Veronica, what are you doing?"

Veronica gave him a nearly absent look and blinked. She dropped the severed hand and gawked at the emasculated jaffa. What _was _she doing? "Uh…"

Arcade discarded his drained microfusion reserve and replaced it with a fresh one. "Nevermind. Look around, it's clear."

She scanned the area and turned up her nose at the smell. She'd experienced that kind of stink many times before, but she could never get used to it. She stopped breathing through her nose and felt oddly self-conscious about breathing through her mouth. Every few seconds she heard moans and groans of agony coming from all around the pyramid. They had won this round.

The Securitrons stopped near one of the warriors. He was crawling to the exit, trying to escape. The robots, emotionless as robots are wont to be, ground him with several needlessly cruel submachine gun bursts. When Daniel stepped into the pyramid, the Securitrons immediately diverted their attention from the warrior corpse and pointed their guns at him.

"Identify yourself," they demanded. When they spoke together, they seemed to generate an instant aura of oppression. Veronica could only guess that it was an intended feature.

Daniel held up his hands in terror. "Doctor Daniel Jackson!"

"Vacate the area or be terminated," they ordered.

"_Stop_!" shouted Veronica. She stood in front of Daniel and blocked the robots' way. She knew it was a stupid move, but it was a stupid move that just felt _right_. "He's friendly."

The Securitrons lowered their weapons. One of them took the lead and began to speak. Veronica never figured out how that worked. Did they have some sort of hive mind? "Vocal match found: Veronica Santangelo. We are here to serve you."

"What the hell is going on?" asked Daniel.

Arcade slid up beside him with his arms crossed. If they recognized Veronica, it wasn't a long shot that he was recognized as friendly as well. "Just roll with it."

Daniel gave her a meek nod.

"Okay," said Veronica. "I don't know what's going on and I don't like it."

"Wait," said Arcade. He walked up to the robots and looked at their soldier-faces. He had an idea. "Don't they have rocket launchers?"

"Oh yeah," she said, rubbing her chin. "Robots! Go outside the pyramid and destroy any aircraft that come within range. Do not, under any circumstance, attack anything or _anyone_ else."

The robots rolled outside, complying with the order with a stolid mechanical silence. The power-armoured scribes and the last remaining active paladin moved aside to let them through and walked over to the group. The paladin had gone through hell. He'd caught a glancing shot to his shoulder and was holding it tightly. Elsewhere there were bruises and wounds on his body that showed signs of the fierce melee he had locked himself in when two of the jaffa that broke down from the arrow formation assaulted him. Veronica ordered the scribes to drag Glowinski somewhere safe and the paladin followed.

This left just the trio to finish the rest. With most of his elite guard out of the equation, Ra would be easy to take out. Veronica took a moment to sit down but abandoned that idea once she realized that there was nowhere she could sit that hadn't had blood or body on it. "Are you ready, guys?"

Arcade didn't even look like he was tired. Veronica knew better, but she also knew that he was a trooper who'd follow through when something was needed of him. "As always."

She could tell that Daniel was trying his best not to smell anything. His voice came out with an obvious nasal quality attached to it. "Yep."

They heard the sound of rockets launching outside, followed by distant explosions. Looks like the robots were doing their job. Veronica felt oddly satisfied despite all the oddness going on. She was thankful that luck decided to be a lady tonight.

She turned around and realized that the gate was still open. Veronica opened up her comms and tried to patch a connection back to the other side. "Ibsen?"

"Veronica," said the scribe's voice. "We were worried that you were gone. Are you all right?"

"Just a sec. What's going on here? What's with the Securitrons? Not to be a downer or anything but they're giving me some very bad vibes. How the hell do we even have them?"

He seemed to be anxious. "It's… complicated."

How suspicious. "Complicated how?"

"It's best to let them do their jobs for now," he replied. "McNamara will explain everything when you get back."

"Right," she muttered. "Talk to you later."

Ibsen tried to say something. "Wait-"

Veronica shut off the comms.

She put the weirdness aside and focused on the task at hand. It was time to press on and storm the castle.

With the help of Daniel's looted device, they clustered up and called the transport. A bright light surrounded them and a series of black stonelike rings emerged from the ceiling, surrounding them. The next moment they found themselves inside a room with golden walls adorned by hieroglyphic imprints. There was a lone jaffa in front of them, pointing his staff weapon at them. He was bald and dark-skinned like the others, and he lacked a helmet. This was likely a new recruit.

Once the rings had dropped into the ship's floor, Veronica glared at the guard and walked right up to him like nobody's business. She could see him shaking. "You'll let us through if you know what's good for you."

He continued standing there, determined to do his duty.

"_You will not pass_," said the jaffa. He was trying his best to appear intimidating, but he fell short on that.

Daniel gave him a grandfatherly look. _"Look at them," _he scolded. _"Do you know what they just did?"_

The jaffa looked at the old man and pointed his weapon. _"Stand back!"_

"We don't have time for this." Arcade pulled out his weapon and shot it at the jaffa's leg. He fell to the ground clutching the cauterized wound and closed his mouth, letting out a suppressed grunt of pain that sounded more like a long, droning hiss. The doctor walked closer and beckoned Daniel over. "Tell him what we want."

The interrogation was mild. Once they'd extracted what they could from the guard they let him go free and watched him limp towards a corridor.

"Control room?" suggested Veronica.

Arcade gave her a questioning look. "Do we have the time?"

Daniel butted in and raised a hand. "I'll do it. I have some business to take care of."

Veronica tilted her head at him. "Are you sure, doc? I mean, he's a god and all. You sure you don't need any help?"

"I can handle it," he urged. "If I need any help, you'll hear me."

Veronica gave him a shrug. "If you say so. Come on, doc. Let's see if we can disable this thing."

Daniel broke off from the duo and paced through the corridors with a determined look in his eye. He found Ra in his throne room standing over a female local with his hand held out in front of him. The woman looked as if she'd lost control of herself, drooling like she'd had her humanity taken from her. Daniel had seen this before, and the locals thought of it as witchcraft. He knew better, though. As magical as it may seem, it was nothing more than a piece of technology that the Goa'uld abused for their own selfish purposes.

The sun god caught sight of him and killed off the woman with a gesture of his hand. Her corpse fell limp on the floor as Ra turned to face Daniel. _"You._"

Daniel flicked a button on his eeper. Its top opened up to ready it for firing mode. Lines of yellow energy slithered between the staff top and the internal coils Veronica had installed inside the AER-9 shell. "Missed me?"

Ra's golden mask unfurled itself to reveal face that Daniel had been seeing in his nightmares for the past few decades. He raised his weapon as the alien walked forward, his eyes flickering with a malicious yellow glow. The sun god gave him a deep, unsettling laugh.

"_You think you can destroy me?"_

Daniel stepped backwards, fumbling to put his hand on the trigger. "Stand back!"

"_You are nothing. You and your little rebellion will be destroyed. Surrender now and perhaps I may grant you and your friends a quick death."_

He continued walking towards him. "Get back or I'll-"

"_Then do it, coward."_

Daniel was hesitant for a moment. He had never killed before. Ra gave him a smug smirk and stretched his hand. He exerted his will through the device on his palm and forced Daniel to kneel. The old man wanted to scream in pain, but he wouldn't dare want to show weakness, not now.

The sun god scoffed. _"Weak. I should have killed you a long time ago, but now…"_

He strengthened the psionic force that he exerted on Daniel. Groans of pain emerged from him. _"You will live. And you will see your world burn."_

Daniel Jackson felt weak. He was losing his will to the alien, but he couldn't accept that. _Not now. Not to you._

He thought about all the people that this so-called "god" this people had killed. He thought about all the misery that he brought down on his family, his friends. He thought about the first expedition, Kawalsky and Ferretti and the soldiers who sacrificed themselves to keep Earth out of Ra's hands. He remembered Sha're, and for a moment it was as if he could hear her voice. That was all he needed.

Daniel could barely move his arms, but he did the best he could. Ra could see what he was about to do, and so intensified his mental attack. _"Stop resisting! SUBMIT TO YOUR RIGHTFUL GOD!"_

He wouldn't give up. Not to him. Daniel managed to line up the gun, and he was in position to fire. He mustered up all the force he could, and pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow down. Ra had a look of surprise on his face, and, for the first time, Daniel saw fear. The energy projectile flew through the air nd he moved to dodge it, but it was to no avail. He flew back a few feet and landed on the ground with a resounding _thud_. Daniel dropped the eeper and fell down to his knees. He took a few moments to regain his strength. His nose was bleeding, and his head felt like it was about to explode. He had to go through with this. He took out the knife that had been given to him by Skaara, and the sight of it caused Ra to try and crawl back to his throne.

"No help…" he wheezed. "For… you."

He stood up and limped over to his archenemy. Daniel knelt down, blood dripping from his nose, and aimed the knife at the god's throat. He recognized that look in his eyes – fear. He tried to speak, but nothing came out save for bloody stutters and spit. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, this is the turning point. He found life sacred in all its forms, but after all the cruelty he'd seen he was now inclined to believe that there were just some people out there who deserved to be punished. Daniel was breathing heavily, and felt like he would collapse at any moment. Despite his weakness, he managed to whisper one word.

"_This is for Sha're_."

He slid the knife through the false god's throat and watched the blood spill through to his mothership's gilded floor. Ra sputtered and spasmed as his symbiote struggled to break free of its host. His eyes had turned erratic, flicking on and off like a strobe light. A high-pitched, grating sound started coming out of his neck. Daniel raised the knife once more and stabbed it deep through Ra's throat, twisting it as he did so. The symbiote's screams intensified for a moment but soon faded into nothing. After that, he could hear nothing but his own heartbeat.

It was over.

-=(O)=-

He woke up to the sound of Veronica's voice.

"-and then the scribe said: 'it's not Cram, it's radiation!'" She chuckled. "What? No applause? Geez, tough crowd. Any better jokes?"

He was back in Ra's palace on Nagadah. The sun was setting outside. This was his favourite time of the day. The sun's heat was subsided but the night chill hadn't quite set in, which made it the perfect time to relax. A lot of important events in his life here had occurred during sunset, but he didn't have time to reminisce on that. Veronica was poking her relentlessly, and it was starting to get annoying.

"Please stop that," he said. He looked at her, sitting down beside him with a big, wide grin on her face.

"Heeey, he's back."

"What happened?" he asked.

"Not much. We found you passed out near a dead dude who had his throat screwed hard by knives."

"That was Ra," he remembered. "I killed him, didn't I?"

"You did," said Arcade's voice. "Never thought you had it in you to follow the attitude of distressingly nonchalant murder that we did."

The old man sat up and glared at Arcade. "He killed my wife."

Arcade winced. "Oh. That… changes things."

Daniel sighed and rubbed his forehead. Ra might be dead, but that device of his had some lingering aftereffects. "Skaara?"

"He's tending to the wounded. Held a big celebration yesterday, thankfully with a lot less women offering themselves. He's a mean chess player, even when piss-drunk."

Daniel gave him a knowing smile.

Arcade cleared his throat. "Post-action status report aside… Now that this whole business is over with, t's time we talked about the proposition you offered on the first day of the revolution. You said you were going to get us home?"

-=(O)=-

When she passed through the gate, she felt cold pinpricks of anxiety rising on the back of her neck. They were successful enough in their operation, even if they took on a lot more than they would have expected. They just killed a powerful alien overlord, they freed a people that had lived under thousands of years of oppression, and they'd made a new friend, and yet…

There was just something _wrong _about it all. The Securitrons, Ibsen's weird attitude, the fact that Daniel said there could be more of Ra's kind out there. They might have just stumbled upon the first in what could be a very long, very bad series of events. She didn't want to think about that, though. She swallowed and passed through the gate for the second time. She was finally back home.

Her homecoming felt like a blur.

Hugs and cheers, suspicious glances and whispers about Daniel Jackson. Bullshit sessions with all the other scribes who didn't believe her as she told them about her desert alien adventure. Before she knew it, she was sitting in the briefing room, looking at Elder McNamara with a blank look on her face. She knew he was telling her something, but she wasn't really listening. At first he was angry about the deaths to his men, gave her a sermon on responsibility, duty, and caution. Then he calmed down, talked about the positive side of everything they did. And then came the long explanation about what had happened here since she left. Daniel and Arcade sat beside her, absolutely absorbed in what the elder was telling them. She snapped out of her trance when she heard his name.

"-With Mr. House," he said.

Veronica blinked and drilled into the elder's eyes with a piercing stare.

"House?"

The elder nodded. He continued talking to the other two about something important. Veronica sank into her seat and tried to process the implications that that one phrase presented. She could only muster one coherent thought through it all:

_Fuck._


	5. Escalation Part 1 - You Need Help

**ESCALATION: PART 1 OF 3 - YOU'LL NEED HELP**

Doctors Daniel Jackson and Arcade Gannon sat across from each other behind the old Vault-Tec style dinner table as they discussed their situation over dinner. The cafeteria, although old, held enough cryogenically-frozen food and water inside its stores to last them through a few months in the event that they were completely cut off from outside suppliers. Brotherhood members were milling about, most of them engaged in personal affairs and daily goings-on around the facility.

"So as far as you know," said Daniel, "Las Vegas, or as you call it now, New Vegas, is the only city that managed to survive the third world war?"

"As far as we know," said Arcade, nodding, "All thanks to Mr. House. I don't exactly know if it's actually him that we saw on those Securitron screens when we travelled back through the gate, in fact we don't even know if he's still alive at all. There's been some speculation that he's an artificial intelligence of some sort based loosely on House himself, but, as I said, we don't really know anything. I do know that Six knows the answer to that, but when I asked her she wasn't exactly forthcoming with that kind of information."

Daniel nodded along. "You keep mentioning this person called Six. Who is she?"

"Short for Courier Six," said Arcade, sighing, "she was this courier for the Mojave Express, an amnesiac who apparently rose from the grave in Goodsprings after one of the bosses of the Strip casinos shot her in the head. Veronica and I travelled with her for a while. We had a falling out after she decided to back House in his plan to take over the Mojave. Needless to say, we don't really talk to her any more."

The old man nodded and took a bite out of the gecko steak in front of him. The taste reminded him of chicken. "You said that she was responsible for the rediscovery of the Stargate. What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"Well, it's a long story," said Arcade. "But to put it short, she managed to convince the Brotherhood members living in Hidden Valley to flee after House ordered her to kill them all. I'm sure you understand why the Brotherhood's mission wouldn't want to allow someone like House to use all that technology without their consent. To this day, I still don't know how she did it. The Brotherhood, especially this chapter, doesn't tend to listen to the advice of people outside their organization. I've asked Veronica a few times to tell me just what happened, but so far I've had no luck in getting her to tell anything."

Daniel nodded. "You're not a member of the Brotherhood, though. You said you were part of a cult or something like that?"

"Followers of the Apocalypse. And for the record, we're not a cult. We used to be a church out West, but that's more of a ceremonial function. We provide medical services, food, water, and other necessities to the people who need them the most. Most people accept and even welcome our services, but there are a few folks here and there who aren't fond of the concept."

"Makes sense, but how exactly did you get these people here to trust you? I mean, I feel like an alien when I walk around this place. Of course, that's not exactly an exaggeration but you get my point."

"They don't," replied Arcade. "Veronica does, and she has the elder's ear, and she just put in a good word for me. That's good enough to prevent them from killing me on sight. To them, I'm just someone who's more trouble than it's worth to remove."

"Oh. Well, that's a bit of a comfort then," said Daniel, sighing. "Moving on, though. Do you have any idea what they're going to do with the gate now that they sort of know what's out there?"

"Not yet, they're still debating the subject. From what Veronica tells me, McNamara is pushing for a more thorough investigation of the planet. Since Ra's spaceship is still intact, they're thinking of studying its technology and finding some way to make use of it. That, and with the revelation that this isn't the only planet to be stuck in, there's been a whole lot of talk about moving somewhere that's a bit less of a radioactive wasteland."

"Abydos isn't the only other planet out there, though. There are a lot of other symbols present on the Stargate, which means that there are other destinations available. With seven symbols being used for coordinates that's-"

"Hundreds, maybe thousands of possible combinations, yes. I'm aware of the possibilities. The problem is, we only know _one _that works. The people here tried other combinations before, but they couldn't get anything to work. Without a guide of some sort, it's practically impossible to find some way to go to other planets _besides _the one we just went to."

"A guide, huh?" said Daniel, rubbing his chin. His eyes widened as he remembered something, and he grinned. "I might be able to help you with that."

-=(O)=-

"I don't believe this," muttered Veronica, as she pointed to the face of Mr. House on the screen at the end of the long table. "Why is _he _here? How the hell did he even know about this?"

"You _forget_, Miss Santangelo," said House in a patronizing tone, "RobCo was an integral part of the Old World government for years. Did you _seriously_ think that we would not be aware of this program? You disappoint me. The Courier spoke highly of you, but now I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Veronica turned to McNamara. "I'm sorry, Veronica," he said. "Like I said, we had no other choice. We couldn't lose this opportunity, especially not now. The agreement we set in place was for our own safety. We learned our lesson at HELIOS One and we paid for it. We can't let that happen now."

"And at what cost?" asked Veronica. "You're working with the man that _tried to_ _kill us!_"

"It was a necessity at the time, Miss Santangelo," said House. "I'm sure you agree that things don't need to be that way now. We can either choose to resolve our resolve our differences or antagonize each other. I sincerely hope that we won't have to resort to the latter."

"Either way, the choice isn't yours, Veronica," said McNamara. "We had to do this. We can't run away like we did in Hidden Valley, nor should we destroy this device. Hardin and his men died just so we can get to this point. We can't give up now."

Although Veronica disagreed, she saw the elder's point. It took a lot of convincing, which wasn't a small feat in itself even with Six's uncanny charisma, to get the elder to this point. _If I hadn't listened to her_, she thought, _we'd probably all be dead. _She glared at the screen that showed Mr. House's face. _Oh, if I could just find a way to punch his non-corporeal ass…_

Veronica calmed down, sighed and tapped her fingers on the table. "So," she said, "why are _you _here, then? Why would you decide _not _to kill us now? I mean, not that I'm suggesting that you should do that sort of thing._"_

The screen flickered, but his static face remained unwavering. "I'm sure you're aware of Project Giza, or as you call it, the Stargate program, and the involvement of the Old World government with its administration and utilization."

"We read the files, yeah," said Veronica, "we even took 'em out to a romantic candlelit dinner under a radioactive sky. Can you get to the point?"

"Very well," said the screen. "The government carefully and selectively omitted several key pieces of information concerning the program that was vital to its operation. One example of this information would be the failed expedition of 2003. Although it was indeed the first expedition to have taken place to another planet and the only successful one so far, it was far from the last attempt to contact the planet. Abydos, I believe you call it now. When the facility personnel attempted to dial the address, connections were made but they only lasted for several microseconds before they were terminated. In 2071, before the onset of the Sino-American war, another address was discovered and a gate connection was successfully established. That one lasted no more than a few microseconds as well."

"Uh huh," said Veronica. "I get it. Pre-War think tanks failing at things, blah blah blah. What's this got to do with us?"

"Patience, Miss Santangelo," said House. "It was initially a mystery why you managed to activate the gate and maintained a successful connection. After a careful look at the data my instruments have gathered during my hibernation, however, I managed to obtain the answer."

"Riveting," muttered Veronica sarcastically. "But can you please _get to the point?_"

"You're persistent," continued House. "But I'll oblige. For the past two centuries, Earth has been under the effects of a time dilation field, most likely an artificial one. As of now we don't know how or why, but you'd be a fool to believe that we won't come up with an answer to that question as well."

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Veronica, confused. "That's impossible. Hell, that goes against everything we know about the _laws of physics_. There's just no way to artificially slow down time. It's just impossible based on our current understanding of science.

"Of course it isn't. I know that all too well. However, you are missing one crucial point."

"And what point would that be?"

"Our current understanding isn't set in stone. Science is a river, Miss Santangelo. And it's a river we must learn to ride."

-=(O)=-

Arcade looked at Veronica, concerned. They were inside one of the living quarters in the eighteenth level. Daniel was in the room with them, busy flipping through books and writing on notes. Despite his age, his attitude seemed to be as youthful as ever. Veronica had rested her hooded head on her hand, a sour look on her face. Outside the door, a Securitron strolled past on its routine patrol.

"You all right?" asked Arcade. "You look like you're pretty pissed. Actually, that's fairly obvious. What's _making _you pissed?"

"For starters," said Veronica, "what about everything? House, McNamara, Six, the whole shebang. The entire sorry affair just drains the energy out of a girl, y'know? I hate that monitor-faced bastard, but at this point I can't really do anything about it. McNamara just caved in to his demands, and to be honest the worst thing about this is that he's _right._ We've been running for too long. It's a compromise that nobody likes but it's something that we have to do."

"We all have to make compromises, Veronica. You've made this kind of decision before, haven't you? I mean, that whole self-journey thing you did with Six? You followed her suggestion and stayed with the Brotherhood even though you felt that you'd do better if you'd have joined us instead. And to be frank, you would've made a great addition to our cause."

"Well, yeah," said Veronica, "and look where that led us."

"The rediscovery of the most important thing mankind has ever discovered and a shining beacon of hope the remnants of the human race?" suggested Daniel, looking up from his notebook. "Sorry for barging into your conversation like that, but I just felt that I had to chime in. When you realize what's at stake here, you have to gain some perspective on what's important. You're looking at a way to finally bring the world back into shape and finally have some peace around this place. Sure, you have problems when it comes to how you get that done but those problems won't matter when all that hard work will pay off. Now, I'm not saying that the ends _totally _justify the means, but come on. We're talking about the _world _here. Of course, that's just my opinion about it. What do you think?"

His eyes shifted between the two, waiting for a response. They both looked at him like he was a madman and he shrugged. "Well, that's just what I think about it," he muttered. He went back to his writing.

"Sorry to break it to ya, Danny," replied Veronica after a while, "can I call you that? Anyway, the only world we know is pretty much restricted to places that haven't been turned into uninhabitable radioactive hellscapes. Apologies if we don't have enough perspective for your liking. We don't have really that much time to devote to bettering the human race when our most immediate concern is survival on a day-to-day basis."

"Yeah, I get the picture," muttered Daniel, rubbing his forehead. "You said something about a time dilation field earlier that Mr. House told you about. Can you elaborate on that?"

"That's one way to change the subject on a moral debate, but okay. Well, essentially," explained Veronica, "time has been flowing slower on this planet compared to time that passes in space. That means that for the three hundred years we've been here, everywhere else in the galaxy it might have only been around a few months or so. For some reason that dilation abruptly stopped around four years ago. We don't know why, but we're working on it."

Daniel nodded. "That might explain why it's only been fifty, give or take a few decades, from my perspective."

"And why we weren't able to establish a wormhole to get back there," said Veronica. "While the wormhole may have lasted as much as it could have on your end, it only lasted a few microseconds or so here."

"Makes sense. What else did you find out?"

"As much as I'd hate to sound like I actually remotely have a positive opinion of him, House is a genius. His company had a direct involvement with the Stargate program which he used to his advantage when he was developing his technology. You know that metal we found in Abydos that the people were mining? That metal is apparently the building block of pretty much all of the alien technology. The staff weapons, the spaceships, and so on."

"It's called Naquadah, and I knew _that_," said Daniel.

Veronica and Arcade looked at him. "And you didn't think to tell us?" said Veronica.

"I didn't think it was important at the time. And you seemed to be making good work with the eepers."

"So much for your priorities, then," said Arcade. He looked at Veronica. "I don't suppose you brought some back with you?"

"A follow-up team came to the mines and picked up two cases' worth," replied Veronica. "We're studying it now. This metal has a lot of untapped potential in it. If we could manage to somehow use it to augment our fusion cell and electron pack technology, we could be looking at a huge increase in power efficiency. I wanted to call it Veronicium, but McNamara is a killjoy."

"You could call it Naquadah," commented Daniel. "You know, like everyone else does."

Veronica squinted at him. "You know what, I'm going to take your advice and stop pouting. Start thinking positively, that sort of thing. If you need me, I'll be in the research lab on the fifteenth level."

"If you say so," said Arcade, watching her leave. Afterwards he continued to update Daniel on the state of the world and the factions that inhabited it. He and Daniel felt that they understood each other. After a while they started to trail off and discuss other subjects with great interest and enthusiasm.

-=(O)=-

"Ra isn't the only one out there," said Daniel to the people – scribes, he was told, gathered in front of him. "Aliens have been posing as gods and subjugating humans all across the galaxy for thousands of years." He took out a piece of chalk and started to write on the blackboard. He drew the Eye of Ra and showed the pendant of his neck. "Ra is the head of the pantheon. He was the Sun God, basically the big boss of all these gods, or rather aliens. And we just killed him. Can anyone guess what that implication might be?"

Nobody raised their hand. He frowned and turned to Arcade, nodding at him. He nodded back.

"Essentially," said Arcade, "we may have _accidentally_ caused an entire race of powerful aliens with very advanced technology to have reason to notice us. At any moment, we should expect an attack from these gods, these aliens. That means we're going to need to put measures in place to prevent that from happening. I don't exactly know how we're supposed to do that, which means that it's up to you and your scientific expertise to find that out."

A scribe raised his hand. It was Corrick. "I'm sorry to ask this but," he said, "how do we know you're not brahminshitting us?"

Both of the lecturers looked at him indignantly. They just glared at him for a few seconds until Arcade responded.

"Because I don't know," he replied, "perhaps because _you were there_ and you know exactly what these aliens are capable of?"

"Yes, but," the scribe replied, "we managed to eliminate them. In fact, we won a total victory with barely any losses. What makes you think that we can't handle these so-called 'gods'?"

"Well, for one thing," interjected Veronica, who had peeked her head out of the hallway. She was leaning on the door of the lecture room, "we took them by surprise, which was a plus one for us. The next time we might not be so lucky. And no, we didn't have 'barely any' losses. Over half of our paladins died to those Horus Guards. A few of Ra's soldiers escaped when we took the vessel, which means that those soldiers spread word of what happened. 'Till then, it's only a matter of time before these folks turn their attention to us. Now if you think we can take them, perhaps I should remind you of an event that happened not too long ago, at a sunny little place called HELIOS One."

"I'm sure some people appreciate input, Veronica, but we're straying a little off-topic here. Also, you're supposed to be doing something else," said Daniel, tapping the chalk on the board, pointing to the illustration of a layered pyramid. Veronica shrugged and went back to the hallway. "Now, all these Egyptian gods, myths, and so on clearly have basis in reality. Flying chariots that rain down destruction wherever they go. Magical powers that seem to do things like control people with some sort of mental component. Now, they clearly have advanced technology, and the stories about these technologies were no doubt passed down through the generations and misconstrued as something supernatural. In fact, this type of phenomenon is already occurring on your world."

"Tribals passing down tales of Pre-War technology as something from the gods, spirits, or things of that nature," said Arcade. "The same thing happened to all those humans who have been abducted and transported throughout the galaxy by the Goa'uld. We don't know exactly how many there are, but I believe there could be millions, perhaps billions of them out there."

"Which brings us to the topic of setting up a policy for establishing contact," continued Daniel. "If we want any chance of making friends out there, we need to find a way to establish peaceful relations with anyone we might encounter."

Outside the lecture room, Veronica walked through the hallways, entered one the elevators, and headed to the control room, where she briefed a scribe team on what to expect when they came to Abydos. They had already sent through several personnel with the intent of studying the technology left behind by Ra and his spaceship, and so far progress was going well. They had a rudimentary understanding of the physics behind the alien devices but they didn't have the resources to replicate it.

"All right, guys," she said, "just make sure you don't press any buttons unless you have permission to do so. If you ignore that instruction, you're an idiot and a lot of people will be very mad at you because you probably blew the ship up. Are we all clear?"

The scribes nodded at her as the gate was activated. "All clear to proceed," said Ibsen who was manning one of the computers.

"Looks like you're good to go," she said, smiling as she patted one of the scribes on the shoulder. "Have fun."

After the scribe team left, the door opened to knight who walked over to Veronica. "Elder McNamara needs you at the first level," she said, "emissaries from the other chapters of the Brotherhood have arrived and are ready to be debriefed on the situation. She wants you there personally."

"Oh, joy," she said. She was only half sarcastic.

When she came up to the surface, she was greeted by Elder McNamara and Head Paladin Ramos and told to wait for the delegates to arrive. They stood outside the command hangar that housed the office Veronica found during the initial discovery.

The brothers from the West had arrived on foot and kept a low profile in order to avoid catching the attention of the NCR. They were dressed in inconspicuous-looking attire and carried weapons that could be easily hidden. They were hard men who had gone through hell during the war in the West.

The ones from the East, on the other hand, didn't really concern themselves with stealth as they had arrived by a vertibird which had its Enclave logo painted over and replaced with the emblem of the Brotherhood of Steel. There were four of them, and they all wore a kind of power armour that Veronica hadn't seen before. The armour reminded her of Arcade's, except it seemed like it was a lot more advanced.

They all walked over to McNamara's group and exchanged courtesies accordingly. "It's a pleasure to see you on such short notice," said the Elder, glancing between the two. "Any word on our brothers from the Midwest?"

"They were otherwise occupied and unable to spare any men," said one of the figures clad in power armour. "They did wish us to relay that they send their best regards. Elder Lyons does as well."

"Likewise from Lost Hills," said one of the Western brothers. He glanced at the armoured figures and tried to hide his scorn. "This discovery you've found… What can you tell us about it?"

"In due time, brother," said McNamara. "We will talk in the briefing room. We have a lot to discuss."

-=(O)=-

"And you say this alien device is capable of allowing us to travel to other worlds?" said a Brother from the Capital Wasteland. He was a senior scribe by the name of Rothchild. "Pardon my hesitation, but how can you be so sure of that?"

"Because we've managed to activate it and have sent people through," replied Elder McNamara. "We brought all of you here for a reason. We know that we may have had our differences in the past, but right now we have to stand united as there may be a new threat looming over the horizon."

"Then perhaps you can tell us what might this threat be" said a Western scribe who still remained sceptical and kept her hands on the table, "and why is it so important as to warrant a need to interrupt our operations in our respective chapters to head over to this facility?"

"An enemy that's perhaps greater than everything else we've ever known," explained McNamara, "perhaps even greater than what our ancestors have faced before the Great War. We must bring ourselves together and unite. The Brotherhood has a duty not only to itself but to the world that remains. This is an opportunity that we can't give up. These Goa'uld, these aliens, represent an enemy that could jeopardize our existence."

"We realize what you're saying, and if it's true we agree," said Rothchild, "but as it stands, we can't divert any of our forces from our respective battles in the Wasteland. How exactly are you proposing that we fight these enemies if we don't even have enough resources or troops to fight them with?"

"You'll need help," said Mr. House, whose face had appeared in a screen once more. Securitrons filed into the room one by one, covering the exits to prevent people from getting in or out. The attendants at the meeting aside from those already working at the facility looked at him with surprise and fear. "My help, to be precise. Believe me when I say that there's no one else out there who has either the capability or the resources to aid you. To that end, let's talk business, shall we?"

=(O)=

**CHULAK**

Apophis sat in his throne room, both satisfied and distressed by the news of his brother's death. A lone jaffa had arrived by cargo ship to his planet in order to pledge his allegiance and told him of what happened on Abydos.

"And you would renounce your allegiance to my brother?"he asked the jaffa that stood in front of him. "What reason would I have to trust a _shol'va_ that would so readily betray his god?"

"I did not betray my god, my lord," said Ra's former jaffa. "For he is dead. I pledge my allegiance to you. In return, I will give you information about our enemy. They are not to be taken lightly, my lord."

Apophis nodded, grinning. "I'm sure you will have plenty to tell. Teal'c, take him away. Get as much information as you can out of him, then kill him. I have no use for a _shol'va_."

"Yes, my lord," said the First Prime of Apophis. He looked at one of the other guards near him, pointing. "Jaffa, _kree!_" The guard nodded and took the prisoner, hauling him off as he screamed for mercy.

"_No!_" shouted the jaffa as he was dragged away. "You must listen to me! They will kill us! _Please!_"

When the traitor was dragged away, Apophis turned to Teal'c and rested his chin on his hands, contemplating on his course of action. "Do you believe he tells the truth, Teal'c?"

"Indeed," replied Teal'c. "I believe he speaks the truth."

Apophis simply nodded. "Then I must crush these invaders. Rally the Serpent Guard. This threat must not be allowed to spread."

"I shall, my lord," said Teal'c. With that, he walked away.


	6. Escalation Part 2 - Responsibilities

**ESCALATION: PART 2 OF 3 - RESPONSIBILITIES**

**ABYDOS**

"This is the address for Earth. As you can see, it's not the only one present here. This is undeniable proof that there are other places that the Stargate can go to other than Earth and Abydos," said Daniel as he pointed to one of the symbol groupings present on the hieroglyphic wall. The scribes gathered in front of him nodded as they took down notes. Each grouping contained seven symbols that indicated that they were Stargate addresses.

"We only knew one address because of the Stargate cover we found back in Giza during the initial discovery of the gate," he explained further. "Presumably the others were destroyed to prevent anyone from trying to unearth the Stargate again. If we could somehow program these additional addresses into the computer back at the base, then we wouldn't have to resort to guesswork and trial-and-error any more in order to travel. After that, it's just a matter of exploring these planets and…"

Daniel continued to lecture the scribes on the workings of the Stargate and the Cartouche back at the pyramid and Veronica observed as the scribes studied the technology they'd found on Ra's mothership. Although they had a basic understanding of what the technology did, their progress was impeded by the fact that they had to be extremely cautious when it came to using it. As a result, barely anything had actually been touched and everything had to be dissected carefully without actually activating it. Needless to say, this didn't make progress as efficient as it could be.

"It could take us months," said Senior Scribe Schuler, who was in charge of the operation on Abydos, "maybe years to get a complete understanding of how to use this ship without causing problems. Longer if we want to be able to replicate the technology, that is of course if we ignore the caveat of whether or not we actually have the capability to replicate it."

"I understand it's hard work, and you'd probably need a translator to help speed things up like I did," said Veronica, "but Daniel's already got his hands full teaching everything he knows about the subject to the scribes. He can't be in two places at once, you know. I know we have to be cautious, but at some point we're actually going to have to push a few boundaries to eventually find out how to use this thing."

"It's too risky, Veronica," responded Schuler, shaking her head. "I want to figure out how this works just as much as you do, but this is an extremely valuable piece of technology and we have to make sure that we can still use it when we finally _do _manage to figure out how we can do that. With House in control of the more important pieces of the puzzle, that's going to take a long, long time."

"That guy just _had _to make a mess of things, didn't he?" complained Veronica. She waved Schuler goodbye and wandered through the parts of the mothership that she was allowed to visit and afterwards made her way to the ring transport, where she beamed back down into the pyramid.

After the initial expedition and the defeat of Ra, the Brotherhood began sending personnel and equipment through the Stargate and had managed to set up a base in the pyramid and the surrounding area. Patrols regularly went out to Nagadah and the other Abydonian towns to trade supplies with the locals, but nothing as valuable as technology was exchanged. Although they had made their presence known in the planet, pressure by Veronica, Daniel, and the Capital Wasteland brothers suggested that they should take a more diplomatic and friendly when it came to dealing with the locals.

So far there hadn't been any major incidents between them and the natives. The Abydonians respected the Brotherhood for freeing them from Ra, and for the most part they revered them as saviours. The Capital Wastelanders even suggested that the Abydonians should be allowed to join the Brotherhood if they proved that they were capable, but McNamara and the Western brothers were having none of it.

It wasn't only the Brotherhood that came to establish a presence on Abydos, however. Where they went, so did House. One of the stipulations of the agreement between him and the Brotherhood was that he was allowed full use of the Stargate. Securitrons and Sentrybots guarded several levels of the mothership that were off limits to Brotherhood personnel and anyone else who wasn't him. It was even rumoured that the Courier set up shop one of those sections on behalf of Mr. House after her infamous visit to the Earth base, but nobody could prove anything beyond hearsay. One of those levels was the central control room for the ship, which was the main factor that prevented the Brotherhood from progress when it came to examining it.

On Earth, ever-increasing numbers of the Brotherhood from other Chapters flocked to the Groom Lake airbase as word spread about the discovery found there. Vertibirds flew back and forth on the long path to the Citadel as they brought in more equipment and personnel scavenged from the Capital Wasteland, and Western elders sent out people to out to keep an eye on everyone else. Tensions were present between the chapters and fierce debate had occurred during the briefings due to their philosophical differences, but for the most part peace was kept between them, thanks in no small part to the presence of House and his robots.

The relationship between him and the Brotherhood was shaky at best, but they agreed that it was a necessity if they wanted to keep at least some measure of control over the Stargate. It was an agreement of convenience that both parties agreed would be in their best interests. It didn't help the Brotherhood from feeling that they got the short end of the stick, but at this point they couldn't really complain. The alternative was unpleasant to think about.

Veronica found Arcade tending to one of the Abydonians who had contracted a cold in one of the camps outside the pyramid. "I hope you're having as much fun as I am," she said.

"Well, if you count 'correcting age-old superstition and tradition in the hope of trying to dispel misconceptions about modern medicine' fun, then yes I am," he replied. "Of course, that's just par for the course. I'd imagine trying to study and reverse-engineer alien technology to be somewhat more challenging than that."

"Well, it has its difficulties," she said, "but I have permission to disassemble some of the less-spacey parts of the ship. It's easy enough to understand it once you've taken it apart and put it back together. Progress would be faster if they just let me disassemble it completely, but you know how ominous robotic masters can put a damper on that. On a sadder note, I suggested that it should be called _Veronica's Fist_, but they shot down that suggestion too."

Arcade told the Abydonian that he would be fine in a few days and to sleep it off and sent him on his way. He then turned to Veronica and gave her a stern look. "Guess they don't appreciate your creativity."

"Hey, it saved their asses more than once," she replied. "I was hoping they'd at least have _some _gratitude, y'know?"

Arcade simply nodded. "Uh-huh." he said, rolling his eyes. "I have a lesson to get to in half an hour. Feels like I'm in training again with all this knowledge I have to absorb."

"Welcome to the club, doc. Now you know what it feels like to be part of the unenlightened masses."

"I'll keep that in mind." Arcade gave her a nod and walked back to the Stargate, waiting for the next scheduled trip back home. Just as he left, Daniel passed through the camp, having completed his lecture on the Abydos cartouche. Daniel waved at Veronica and walked over to her.

"How are things on your end?" he asked.

"More or less slow and painful," she said, shrugging. "You?"

"Oh, a bit more pleasant," he replied. "I've been teaching the scribes about Abydonian culture and ancient mythology, and so far they seem to be responding positively to my lectures. It's always been my passion to learn about ancient cultures, and for once I actually feel like I have a purpose in life now that they aren't dismissing my theories completely."

"Good for you," she said, "after a while we get tired of learning about the Brotherhood's history and our mission and all that other crap we've been told a thousand times over. For once we actually have an excuse to learn about other things now."

"After what you've told me you've been through, sounds like you could use the extra knowledge," said Daniel. "I know I haven't experienced it myself, but I'm sure living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland can take a toll on your cultural wellbeing."

"Well, we learned a hard lesson before we started to consider other options. It was bad for everyone, but at least we came out on top." There was a hint of regret in her voice, and she sighed. "Hopefully we can come out even more on top this time. Or something." She blinked and sighed. "Geez, that was a bad metaphor. I'll get back to you with a better one when I can think of something."

Daniel just gave her a warm smile. "Well, it was nice chatting with you. I better go orient the new batch of recruits on the basics." With that, he joined the next group to enter the gate back to Earth.

After watching him leave, Veronica went to another part of the pyramid that had been converted into a hybrid workshop and research lab. She had her own room assigned to her, cordoned off by just one holographic sign saying "VERONICA'S ROOM – DON'T ENTER OR YOU WILL BE PUNCHED". People knew her well enough to take the threat seriously.

The room itself was some sort of gallery, but most of the artefacts had been taken back to Earth for study by Daniel and the scribes. There were several workbenches lining the walls, most of which had disassembled parts of technology gathered from Ra's Jaffa on them. She had managed to figure out how the staff weapons back during the initial expedition, and was working on integrating its power systems with existing microfusion cell technology which she could use to power some of her gloves and her laser pistol without having to use eepers. Her main objective was to study the metal that powered the alien's stuff and to find out how it could be used to augment their technology.

On that front, her progress was promising. Even though the mothership was something that she had no control over, she felt comfort in the fact that her little project was keeping her relatively sane.

-=(O)=-

**EARTH**

Ibsen tried to enter the coordinates a third time, and for the third time the Stargate failed to activate. Behind him, Daniel Jackson along with several scribes and Elder McNamara were monitoring his progress.

"I don't understand," said Daniel, "these coordinates should be able to work. I mean, the gate opened when I entered some of them through the device on Abydos. Is there some sort of factor that we could be missing?"

"Are you entirely sure of your theory that the cartouche was a map, Doctor Jackson?" asked McNamara. "We trust your judgement when it comes to these matters, but perhaps-"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure," insisted Daniel. "All of the symbols corresponded to those present on the Stargate, and they were all arranged in such a way as to make up an address. That's it, I mean it can't be anything else. We must have overlooked something. If it works from here to Abydos and vice versa, then it should work for the others."

"It's been over two hundred years since this program was last activated," replied Ibsen, "I should go look into the code and-"

Just then, the screens on the control room monitors began to flicker, all of them shutting down simultaneously and rebooting. The scribes manning the computers attempted to find the source of the problem, but so far all of their input was being rejected. The image of House appeared on the central monitor on front of Ibsen.

"What's happening?" asked Daniel, looking at Ibsen for an answer. McNamara raised an eyebrow, and the scribes started talking among themselves.

Ibsen stared at the screen and tried to make sense of what was happening. Lines of code appeared, disappeared, and reappeared in front of his eyes rapidly, but they moved too fast for him to discern exactly what was happening.

"The program's code is being revised," guessed Ibsen, "it looks like the entire program is being rewritten."

"House," spat McNamara.

"You're a sharp one, Elder," said the image of House as he appeared on the central control screen in front of Ibsen. "This program is old and archaic. It's been over two hundred years since anyone last modified it. Despite what you think, advances have been made in regards to computer technology even after the bombs dropped. There's no need to thank me, of course. Captain Carter devised the algorithms before her ill-fated mission to the moon. It was simply a matter of applying it."

Ibsen looked to Daniel. "Who's he talking about?"

Daniel tried to dredge up memories of his time before Abydos. _Murky, but the name was there…_ "Samantha Carter, I think," he said after several moments' pause, "before I left, there was big news all over about her and a team of the America's best and brightest leaving on a mission to the moon on one of the prototype rockets before the Russians got there first. Apparently it didn't end well."

"You're correct in that assumption," replied House, "her shuttle reportedly burned up on re-entry and her body was never found. That was merely a cover story, of course, but if you want to learn about that then you'll have to find the truth yourself."

After that, the screens turned off for a few seconds before turning back on again. The UOS startup screen appeared on most of the screens, and a few seconds later the computers came back online. House's image had vanished as well.

McNamara looked questioningly at Ibsen. "What did he do?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Ibsen. He called to another scribe and rebooted the computer into administrator mode. He took a few minutes to study the program's code and he eventually he put a palm to his face. "Dear God, it was right under our noses the whole time."

"I'm sorry," said Daniel, shifting his feet, "what was?"

"Why the dialling sequence was failing. Now, astrophysics isn't my specialty but the program failed to account for the movement of the celestial bodies since the gate was activated over five thousand years ago. I won't bore you with the details, but to summarize, House updated the program and allowed it to compensate for interstellar drift. I don't know how he figured it out, but he somehow did it."

"Oh-kay," said Daniel, "that's pretty convenient, I suppose."

"It's in his best interest to ensure that the program is working successfully," said McNamara, "God knows what he wants to do with it, but we're stuck with him for the time being."

Daniel shrugged. "Try dialling the address again. This time it should work."

Ibsen nodded as he gave the signal for the other scribes to begin the dialling sequence. "Activate chevron one," he said.

"Chevron one encoded," said another scribe. The Stargate spun and chevron on top of it's outer rim pressed itself on one of the symbols, lighting up. There was a hiss of steam.

"Activate chevron two," said Ibsen.

"Chevron two encoded," replied the scribe. The same thing happened. This went on for quite some time. Everyone looked at the Stargate in anticipation until the seventh chevron lit up. As it happened, Daniel spoke.

"Let's see if it works," he said.

After the hiss, the gate began to shake the ground and after a few seconds the wormhole appeared, complete with the wave that accompanied the shimmering puddle in front of it. Daniel looked at the thing and smiled. He was right yet again.

Ibsen turned to McNamara and the scribes and nodded at them. "We have a go."

-=(O)=-

A squad of scribes and initiates, six in all, were due on assignment to visit Abydos when the first attack happened. A junior scribe from the Capital Wasteland was manning the station at the time, and they assumed that the gate activation was another incoming wormhole from Abydos. Before they knew what hit them, the Securitrons guarding the gate were hit by staff weapons, and by the time they'd turned they had sustained too much damage to strike back.

One of the initiates went to activate the alarm as several jaffa filed through the gate in a double column formation. They wore body armour and their helmets imitated that of a serpent's head. At the back of the formation was a man clad in golden armour. He seemed to be their leader. He drew back his helmet once he arrived safely and held his position near the end of the Stargate. He looked around as the squad started firing their laser weapons, but the rifles they carried lacked the penetration required to pierce through the serpent-heads' armour. The jaffa struck back with their staff weapons and killed one of the initiates with a direct energy blast, wounding two others close by in the process.

"Jaffa, _kree!_" yelled the golden figure as the serpent-heads continued to attack, pointing to the two wounded scribes and another who had run out of ammunition for her laser rifle. At this point four Protectrons filed into the room, two on each door, opening fire on the jaffa as soon as they had them in their line of sight. They had managed to take down two serpentheads by firing in concentration before they were destroyed by staff fire.

"Mayday, mayday!" shouted the scribe manning the control room as he pulled down the blast doors, calling for help. The base had been alerted to the attack and House's robots were the first to respond. The robots closest to the gate room had been dispatched once House had learned of the destruction of the two guarding the gate, but by the time other Securitrons got there the assailants had already gone, having abducted three members of the squad . Two scribes were killed in the crossfire. One initiate managed to survive.

-=(O)=-

The second attack occurred almost immediately after word of the first had reached the expedition at Abydos. They were halfway through establishing more rigid security measures when the gate unexpectedly opened again. Four serpentheads went through the gate before the Securitrons guarding it immediately opened fire on them with X-25 gatling lasers. The jaffa didn't stand a chance and were quickly neutralized. The gate closed shortly thereafter. The man commanding them didn't seem to come through.

It took a few seconds before the crew about to enter the gate had even figured out what happened, Arcade Gannon among them. He looked at the Securitrons and the smoking corpses of the serpent-heads, looking back and forth between them. He held out his arms in front of the others as he pointed to the corpses. The Securitrons were already going back into position. "Looks like we've got a little problem here," he said. "Get Doctor Jackson, Schuler, and Veronica. They're going to want to see this."

-=(O)=-

A few hours after the attack, McNamara assembled the council as they were briefed on the attacks and assessed the situation in an attempt to formulate a response to the problem.

"Gods," suggested Daniel as they tried to figure out who the assailants were. "We know it can't be Ra. I mean, he's dead. It could be possible that this was another Goa'uld, another member of the pantheon. Now, I can't hazard any guesses as to exactly who it is, but I have a feeling that his identity won't really matter much."

"You're correct in that assumption, Doctor Jackson," replied McNamara. He was sitting in a contemplative position, holding his hands in front of him. He was thinking. "At this point, we're currently establishing countermeasures to prevent future attacks. Force field emitters have been placed at the rim of each of the gate's chevrons, and we're currently distributing devices that would deactivate these fields once it's been proven that friendlies are about to pass through the gate."

"I came up with that one," said Veronica with a smug smirk. "It has a few kinks that I need to work out, but it should work well enough to help keep bad guys from doing bad things to us."

McNamara looked at her and nodded. "And we thank you for that, Veronica. However, force fields aren't going to keep these enemies out forever. We need a more concrete solution."

"And we need it soon," added Head Paladin Ramos. "We don't know how or when these… aliens might attack again. Right now we're working to establish a better security perimeter around the gate, but when it comes to an unknown threat like this we don't really have a way of predicting what's going to come through next."

Veronica looked at Ramos and raised a finger. "Actually, I took care of that too. The force field is placed in such a way as to prevent any matter from rematerializing once they go through the gate when the field is active. So instead of bad guys coming through, you've got a nice splat of energy instead. Isn't that fun?"

"Sadistic, maybe," said Arcade, "I wouldn't exactly call 'vaporizing someone out of existence' fun."

Veronica glared at him. "Well, look who's talking."

"Veronica, Doctor Gannon, please," said McNamara authoritatively, "now is not the time for banter. This is a serious threat we're dealing with. While we appreciate your inputs, we need to focus our attention on formulating some sort of plan to prevent this from happening again."

"They have our people, you know," noted Veronica, "don't you think it's one of our responsibilities to rescue them?"

Ramos looked at her and nodded. "It is, but we don't even know where the threat came from. We can't mount a rescue mission if we don't even know where our enemy took our people."

"We have a location, Ramos," said McNamara. "An initiate that survived the attack managed to view the seven symbols the enemy used before they left the area."

"That means if we go there now, we might have a chance of getting them back," realized Veronica.

McNamara looked at her and sighed. "Correct, but like I said, Veronica, we don't know what our enemies capabilities' are. We could very well be walking into a trap."

"If I may interject," said Daniel, "these people the Goa'uld took… They have vital information that could jeopardize our advantage against the aliens. I mean, they study advanced technology, don't they? Not to generalize or anything, but that's pretty much one of the goals of your organization."

McNamara looked at him and nodded. "Yes. What's your point, Doctor Jackson?"

"Well," said Daniel, "the last time you guys attacked the Goa'uld, they underestimated just how advanced you were. If they manage to gain information about those advancements, then the next time we encounter them you'll have a harder time fighting back."

"He has a point, Elder," said Ramos. "We already have some vague idea of what's out there, especially going by the reports of what the initial expedition encountered on Abydos."

McNamara simply nodded and sighed. "I'll need some time to think about this," he said. "We can't spare any more of our-"

"That won't be necessary," said House, who had once again appeared on the screen at the end of the room. "I'll be providing Securitrons, Protectrons, and Eyebots to be commanded at your leisure once you reach the planet. Call it a gift, if you must. Control will of course be returned to me once you return to Earth."

Everyone looked at his image, surprised. They didn't know what to think of this. His image vanished.

Veronica was the first to pipe up. "Okay, am I turning old or did _House _just.."

"He did, Veronica," said McNamara. "I'm just as perplexed as you are, but if we're going to mount this mission then you're going to need as much help as you can. You will be accompanied by a squad of paladins and I'll see about getting some help from the other Chapters. You leave in 12 hours. Bring as much firepower as is necessary."

Daniel Jackson raised his hand. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join this expedition."

McNamara shook his head at him. "We need you here safe, Doctor Jackson. Your expertise is invaluable and-"

"…if I don't grow that knowledge, then I might as well be useless. Trust me, you're going to need my help when it comes to facing this enemy. I have the most experience in dealing with them."

Veronica nodded at him and turned to McNamara. "He has a point, you know."

McNamara gave it some thought and nodded begrudgingly. "Very well," he said, "but I hope you know how to handle yourself. I'm giving you clearance to requisition what equipment you might need from the armoury."

"I'll come too," said Arcade. "My medical expertise and knowledge with-"

McNamara just nodded. "You as well, but that's it. We can't risk any more than we can in this mission. The Eastern brothers will help with the rest, if I can convince them to do so."

Veronica cracked her fists and grinned. "It's time to saddle up, whatever that means, folks. Looks like we're about to have another interstellar adventure."


	7. Escalation Part 3 - Rescue Mission

**ESCALATION: PART 3 OF 3 - RESCUE MISSION**

The squads gathered in front of the Stargate as they readied themselves for their first rescue mission on an alien world. An Eyebot probe had been sent a few hours earlier to the coordinates the initiate had seen, and as far as they could tell the planet was stable when it came to supporting human life. It was destroyed the moment it came into sight of one of the settlements on the planet. The scribes presumed that it was a staff blast, but they didn't quite know for certain.

Veronica felt that they were preparing more for an assault. A portable version of her glove box was attached to one of the bandoliers on her power armour, which was a modified T-45d suit outfitted with a reservoir for naquadah fusion cells. She put on her special displacer glove, Pushy, and started to move her fingers as she tested its capabilities. For ranged weaponry, she carried a Wattz 1000 Pistol outfitted with a liquid naquadah power reservoir. She'd been making good use of the new metal, and it bonded well with their already-existing technology. As she expected, everything was working fine and dandy. She looked at the others and took note of their equipment.

Arcade was wearing the armour he carried when he helped Six with the assault on Hoover Dam. He told Veronica that didn't regret his decision, but in retrospect he should have let the Securitrons handle it. He was carrying the plasma rifle Six found in the REPCONN office, which had served him well enough during his travels. Veronica had suggested that she could modify it with one of her new naquadah microfusion cells, but Arcade was a bit sceptical of its efficiency. Veronica thought that it was the part of him that wanted to be a killjoy, but she digressed.

Daniel, on the other hand, was dressed a bit more inconspicuously, in plain brown robes and a hood. Veronica could have mistaken him for one of those travelling "wise men" that often accompanied circus troupes back in California. He had been given a laser pistol and a three-hour crash course on how to use it. She figured that he would probably just use his other skills to remain safe. It was all just for self-defence. Unlike the others, he wasn't trained for war.

McNamara sent in a contingent of three paladins to help them on this mission. These were the same ones who had led the initial assault on Ra's Horus Guards, so they had an idea what they were supposed to go up against. The Eastern brothers managed to spare another three-man squad of troopers armed with heavy energy weapons and repurposed Hellfire armour for the purposes of the mission. One of their scribes was taken in the attack, and Rothchild agreed that it would be in their best interest to help with her recovery. The Western brothers felt that the risk was too much for them to spare any help. Veronica would have guessed as much from them – they still hated the idea of getting involved with anything outside their own little world.

House's robots hadn't arrived yet, but they were told that they would come after they'd arrived on the planet. They didn't exactly know why, but they hoped that House would stick to his word.

When they were all assembled, one of the paladins looked at the control room and nodded. McNamara, Rothchild, and Ramos were looking over them.

"Everyone seems to be ready," observed McNamara. "Lock the chevrons and send in the preliminary probe."

Ibsen nodded as he activated the controls. "Eyebot activated. Chevron one locked."

"Chevron one encoded," said a scribe, following his lead. When the sixth chevron was locked, House's robots started filing into the room to prepare themselves for the mission. When the gate was opened and the vortex stabilized, the Eyebot was immediately sent in.

"Receiving video now," said Ibsen. Several screens came to life as the Eyebot's equipment started recording what was happening on the planet. It barely lasted fifteen seconds before it detected a squad of Serpent Guards heading in its direction. It was hit by a staff blast shortly thereafter. Ibsen nodded at a scribe as an alarm was activated.

"Be advised," said Ramos as he scrambled to the intercom, "you'll be encountering hostiles immediately after you land on the planet. Stand to engange."

"Looks like we're coming in hot," remarked one of the Eastern paladins as he raised his weapon. The paladins were the first to go through with weapons up, fingers on their triggers and ready to fire.

The other members of the team waited. Eventually, after a few energy blasts zipped through the gate, the paladins gave an all-clear signal. Veronica nodded at the others. They stepped through the event horizon.

-=(O)=-

**CHULAK**

Daniel, Veronica, and Arcade walked through the forest accompanied by an Eyebot and two Securitrons, following the path that Daniel assumed led to the village after he asked, or at least tried to ask the nomads they encountered where the nearest settlement was. The paladins and other robots stood guard at the Stargate, watching for anyone who might step through or present a threat.

Small teams tended to have the most success when it came to pulling off operations like these. Veronica's personal experiences with Six and her other old friends proved that all too well.

"You know I've never actually seen a real forest before," said Veronica, pointing to the trees. "And y'know, actual trees. Feels kind of… I don't know, alien." She thought about that for a moment. "Actually, that's not entirely-"

"Well, living in a post-apocalyptic radioactive wasteland tends to limit your exposure to other environments," quipped Arcade. "You know what I find astonishing? How life like this evolved in such a similar way to Earth when the chances of something like that even remotely occurring are pretty much astronomical."

"Well, you can blame the Goa'uld for that," said Daniel. "I mean, it's possible for them to have transplanted the life from Earth and carried them over to wherever they visited. Ten thousand years of propagation and you get a lot of planets with climate similar to Earth. Or, at least Pre-War, or Old World, Earth."

The Eyebot sent a warning to their power helmets' HUDs as it detected hostiles approaching. Arcade held his hand up as he and Veronica scrambled to hide themselves behind the treeline, which was a task they'd eventually have to get used to even while wearing power armour. The Securitrons rolled away and Daniel stood in the middle of the road, posing as an inconspicuous traveller.

He looked to his sides as two columns of serpent-heads approached, four jaffa on each column. There was one leading them, and as they approached he stopped and looked at Daniel. He pointed his staff weapon at him and moved it, ordering him to move along. Daniel simply nodded, and sidestepped to let him through.

When they were halfway past him, the one leading them suddenly stopped and turned back. "Jaffa," he said," _kree!_"

Daniel's eyes widened as he turned on his radio. "Guys," he said, "we've got a-"

"On it!" replied Veronica. "Take cover!" She rose from cover and took out a flashbang, tossing it towards the column as the Jaffa scrambled to react. Arcade loaded his Q-35. It lit up with green lights and the sound of fusion energy running through its coils. Daniel quickly hid himself behind a tree as the flashbang exploded, disorienting the group of serpentheads as they started firing their staff weapons wildly around them.

By sheer chance, one of the Jaffa managed to hit one of the now-approaching Securitrons straight in the screen, causing it to malfunction. The screen exploded inwards, causing the electronics inside it to go haywire and ignite. The result was a pile of half-molten silicon where the soldier's face on the screen used to be.

"Use of deadly force authorized," declared the other Securitron. "Close range weapons engaged." It raised its laser-sight apparatus and 9mm submachine gun and opened fire on the Jaffa, taking down one in the formation before the other members of the squad attacked.

Veronica took herself out of cover and attacked the formation from the rear. She punched the serpenthead straight in the chest, and thanks to Pushy the force of the punch caused the guard to knock down the one behind him. She imagined that the attack gave her target a cardiac arrest because the next thing she knew he was haemorrhaging from the mouth. It sounded like he wanted to say something but all that came out was blood and more blood. His armour had practically caved into his chest and he looked like he was trying to win third place in a spasm contest.

Arcade opened fire with the Q-35 plasma rifle with successive and controlled burst shots. He aimed for their centres of mass, and by the time he was done he had managed to take down three of the serpent-heads by cutting through their armour with sustained fire.

Daniel just took potshots as he didn't have much experience when it came to shooting guns, much less energy weapons. He caught a few of them by luck, and one of his hits managed to land on Veronica. She barely felt it.

By the time they were done, there was only one serpenthead remaining; their leader. He had knelt down and lowered his weapon, which the Securitron took to be a cessation of hostilities. The group walked over to him, weapons raised.

"What do we do with this one?" asked Veronica, taking off Pushy as she began to switch to Theodore, her modified zap glove. Hiss. Click. Hum.

The serpenthead deactivated his helmet, revealing him to be a dark-skinned bald man with the emblem of a snake on his forehead. He looked at the group and their weapons, eyebrow raised.

"Those are not Goa'uld weapons," he observed. "Where did you get them?"

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to reveal that information," replied Arcade. "Who are you and why shouldn't we kill you?"

Veronica looked at him like she did when he told her he wanted to gamble back at the Atomic Wrangler a long time ago. She never did find out what his deal was at that time. He simply shrugged. "We have to at least have _some _humanity, Veronica."

The jaffa looked between them and simply nodded. "My name is Teal'c, First Prime of Apophis," he said. "I am a Jaffa, a servant of the Goa'uld. I am not your enemy."

Daniel looked at him suspiciously and rubbed his small beard in thought. "Apophis. Egyptian god of night, brother of Ra… Maybe we should give him a chance," he suggested.

Veronica looked at Daniel, then at Teal'c and raised her zap glove. "Why should we trust you?"

Teal'c simply looked at her. "You cannot. But I hope my actions will speak for my cause when I help you in your struggle. Do you not also consider the Goa'uld as your enemy?"

"We do, and that's kind of why we killed everyone else but you," replied Arcade.

"Then we have that in common. Make no mistake, although I have served Apophis for many years, I have longed for the freedom of my kind and all Jaffa. Many have said that they have the capability to help us in our struggle."

"What happened to them?" asked Daniel.

"They did not have the capability to do so," replied Teal'c, standing up. "And as a result, they were vanquished. As I have said, many have said that they could free us. However, I believe that you are the first that can do it."

Daniel looked at the corpses of the other jaffa that had accompanied him. "We just killed your friends. How can you be so sure about joining our side?"

Teal'c looked at Daniel and gave him a sad nod. "They are the faithful," he said solemnly. "They will never join our struggle for freedom. It is good that they are dead."

"Wow," commented Veronica. "That's pretty cold."

"He seems trustworthy, Veronica," said Arcade sympathetically. Despite the fact that this man was an alien warrior who fought for strange space gods with an entirely different set of traditions and customs, he identified with him. There was just a feeling in his gut, the kind of feeling he didn't usually trust. He was a rational man, but there were times when those gut feelings were strong enough to overrule the constant doubt that often coursed throughout his mind.

"My God, doc," responded Veronica, appalled. "You're supposed to be the logical one. _How _can you be even considering this?"

Arcade turned to Veronica like she'd just insulted his mother. "Even _if _he's not telling the truth, Veronica, we could use the help. He knows what's going on around here and he occupies an important station in the enemy's government. If he betrays us, then fine, you can kill him. If not, then let's just put all of this animosity behind us. _Okay_?"

Veronica wanted to object, but she knew not to mess with the doc when he was angry. "Okay, okay. _Fine._ But if he starts turning tail and fighting _for _the bad guys, he's _done._"

"I do not have a tail," objected Teal'c. "And I will not betray you. I am sincere when I say that I wish to fight Apophis and end his reign, and I am also interested in keeping my being in a state opposite of death."

"The tail thing is metaphorical," explained Daniel.

The jaffa just raised his eyebrow. Daniel caught on to the implication pretty quickly and decided not to pursue the matter further.

"Nevermind," he said. "We'll tell you all about it later. And you're going to need the education, because these two tend to have that kind of humour."

"What kind of humour?" asked Teal'c.

"It's…" Daniel tried to explain, but the words just couldn't come out of his mouth right now. "Like I said, maybe later. Meanwhile, we need to get to Apophis's stronghold. We'll try to introduce ourselves along the way."

"Very well," said Teal'c. With a nod of his head in a general direction, he started leading the group to his about-to-be-former master's stronghold. "Follow me."

-=(O)=-

"This is Apophis' stronghold," explained Teal'c, as he pointed to the palace in front of them.

"That's odd," said Daniel. "The structure doesn't look Egyptian. It's most likely Greek. What would Apophis be doing-"

"It did not originally belong to him, Daniel Jackson," replied Teal'c. "This world was originally held as part of Cronus' empire until Apophis forcefully took it from him in a war of conquest."

Veronica looked at Daniel questioningly. "Who?" she asked.

"Cronus," said Arcade, recalling his mythology. "A Greek Titan, twelve primordial beings of great strength who ruled humanity before they were overthrown by their descendants, the Olympians. It's all part of ancient mythology, but right now our understanding of that is being turned upside down by the revelation that they were all in fact aliens."

"Parasitic beings," said Teal'c. "It is said that once they have infested a human, nothing remains of the host."

"Yeah, we get that," said Daniel. "Learned about as much when we defeated Ra."

Teal'c looked at him, raising an eyebrow again. "So it is true that he has been defeated then?"

"Yep," said Veronica, "and you can thank Daniel here for doing the killing blow."

"Well, I couldn't really have done it without you," said Daniel. "And yeah, it was a-"

"Can you wrap up with the reminiscing experiences a bit?" interjected Arcade. "We have a job to do here. Teal'c, where are the prisoners held?"

"I will show you," he said, as he activated his helmet once more.

Without many assets on the side of stealth, they had to break out their people by force. Veronica had already sent a signal to the paladins along with their location to provide backup in case they bit off more than they could chew. Teal'c led them to one of the walls of the palace and took aim at its bricks. He opened fire with his staff weapons multiple times as the wall was blasted open, revealing a drab cell containing several prisoners, two of the abducted scribes among them.

"We do not have much time before the guards arrive," said Teal'c, keeping his weapons raised. "If you wish to free these people, you must do so quickly."

"We got that," said Veronica as she whistled and shouted to the people inside. "Get up and get ready, folks! You're about to get out of here."

They nodded as they began rushing out, guided by Arcade and Daniel. The paladins had arrived and were taken by surprise, looking at Veronica for a few moments before they raised their weapons and started escorting the prisoners.

"Is there anyone else?" asked Veronica, looking to Teal'c. "These can't be all of them, we're missing one of ours."

"Indeed," said Teal'c. "But we have already alerted them to our presence. If we proceed, then-"

"It doesn't matter, we have to get them out," insisted Veronica. She took out a remote device from her belt and adjusted it to contact the Paladins near the gate. "Guys. We're going to be a while, thanks." She looked at Daniel and motioned for him to follow the prisoners. "Go with them. We're going to be a while."

"Got it," said Daniel as he followed the Paladins leading the prisoners out.

Teal'c cocked his head and simply nodded. "Very well. Follow me." He lead Veronica and Arcade to another wall. "These prisoners have been designated as potential hosts for Amaunet, Apophis' bride. If we are lucky, then none of them have been examined yet."

"I take it that's bad," said Arcade, reloading his plasma rifle. He nodded. "We better hurry before that happens then."

"Indeed," said Teal'c. He blasted the walls open again to reveal another room more lavishly decorated, this time containing several women which had all been dressed in silky white attire that tended to reveal more than Veronica usually needed to start having naughty thoughts. Apophis stood at the doorway, looking at Teal'c with a look of utter bafflement as he blasted his way in. His eyes glowed as he took a moment to process what was going on.

"_Shol'va!_" he shouted at Teal'c, pointing at him furiously. "Jaffa, _kree!_"

The two serpentheads flanking him raised their staff weapons and opened fire. The liberation trio moved to dodge the projectiles as two of the prisoners were caught in the crossfire and ended up dead. Arcade managed to take down one of them with a well-aimed plasma bolt to the head as Veronica started rushing the women out of the room. Apophis fled and left the other jaffa to cover his approach.

"The bad guy's getting away," said Veronica as the last of the prisoners were ushered out. The rush of combat tended to quell the naughty thoughts pretty quickly, she observed. She also noted that her initial reaction to the sight of the captives was completely unwarranted in a situation like this and she should probably get it checked out, mild as it was. "Should we get him?"

Teal'c shook his head. "That would be unwise, Veronica Santangelo. We must leave now, through the _chapa'ai_ before we are outnumbered and overwhelmed."

"He has a point, Veronica," said Arcade, tossing out a spent microfusion cell. "We have to go."

"Right," said Veronica, taking out the hand radio. "Guys, we've got company. Better make use of those robots now." She looked at Teal'c and gave him a nod of appreciation. "Thank you for not betraying us."

"It was not my intention, Veronica Santangelo," he replied.

"You're cool in my book."

"I do not feel cold, Veronica Santangelo. I also do not see a book."

"Veronica!" shouted Arcade. He was already starting to leave. "We have to get back, _now._"

Veronica averted her gaze from the warrior and looked at Arcade. "Okay, geez!"

-=(O)=-

Two crescent-shaped black aircraft glided through the air as they readied their weapons, taking aim at the mass of prisoners escaping below. The Stargate had been activated by one of the Paladins, and they were ushering the prisoners to hurry and go through. As the first fired two energy blasts from its main weapons, it caught the rear of the formation and managed to kill three of the escapees. By this point three Securitrons had managed to get a lock on it with their laser sights and they fired their rocket launchers in unison. A death glider managed to evade two of the missiles, but the third one caught it on its side and caused it to come crashing down into the forest. The other, sensing the threat, began turn around in an attempt to retreat. It was promptly taken mid-turn down by a well-aimed Tesla Cannon shot from one of the Hellfire-clad paladins.

When Veronica, Arcade, Teal'c, and the prisoners came in sight of the gate, a horde of Jaffa came with them, rushing forward with a rallying battlecry as they went. "_Hooooly shiiiiit guys_!" shouted Veronica.

"Goddammit, Veronica!" yelled one of the paladins as he raised his plasma caster. He looked at the other five and nodded. "Everyone ready your weapons. Activate the robots and open fire!"

"Aim for the guys with chainmail!" broadcasted Veronica through her helmet HUD. "Except the one that's with us! He's one of the good guys!"

They crested the ridge near the gate site as the paladins took cover behind the stones surrounding it. The prisoners accompanying Daniel had already started going through the Stargate. As soon as the jaffa appeared, the paladins started opening fire with their plasma casters, laser RCWs, and tesla cannons. Energy blasts whizzed past them and hit several rocks, chipping away at them and throwing up clouds of choking dust that started obscuring vision all around. An energy blast landed a direct hit on one of the paladins' heads, causing it to explode in such a way that reminded Veronica of Six's obsession of lining up headshots whenever it was possible. The fool had taken off his helmet earlier just so he could get a bit more comfortable, and it cost him his life.

The Securitrons and Protectrons started firing in response to the appearance of the large number of hostiles, but with the sheer number of energy blasts flying through the air the Protectrons were hit and put out of commission early on. The others wouldn't fall so easily. The Securitrons had started using their missile launchers and fired as fast as they could, shaking the earth with the number of explosions hitting the ground in rapid succession.

When the second batch of prisoners following Veronica had gone safely through the gate, she gave an all-clear signal to the remaining paladins and they started retreating. One had his suit badly damaged and could barely move. He was carried by two others but made it through the gate safely, followed quickly by Veronica. Her left knee had been hit by one of the energy blast on her way back, causing her to have to limp the rest of the way through. She collapsed on her knees by the time she had rematerialized back on Earth.

House's robots continued to defend against the encroaching jaffa even after the gate had closed. A few hours after the battle, their remote self-destruct command timers had went off, killing off several of Apophis' servants who were delegated to study it. The expedition team was never informed of this function.

It was then that Apophis knew this threat was absolutely not to be ignored. If these humans had such powerful weapons and warriors with them, they had to be eliminated immediately. That night he departed for one of his controlled planets and gave them the instruction to speed up the construction of his new motherships. He would never have admitted this to anyone, but for once, he was afraid.

-=(O)=-

Arcade was patching up Veronica's leg when she came to a few hours later. The infirmary was full of the refugees she'd brought with her. A lot of them had sustained injuries from the attacks led by the death gliders and the jaffa.

"Slow down," said Arcade, who was finishing up a bandage. "You've lost a lot of blood. The knights in the workshop are working on fixing your suit."

Veronica slowly poked her head up and looked around. She looked at her leg and frowned. "Well that's a bummer. It's always the knees."

Arcade nodded. "You'll be fine in a couple of hours if the stimpaks hold up. You've been through worse. Remember when you went with Six to Vault 3?"

Veronica grimaced. "God, don't remind me. I still have nightmares about that Blamco package. I'm never eating Mac and Cheese again."

Arcade smiled and gave her a little pat on her bandaged leg. "Good to have you back. McNamara and the other members of the council are trying to figure out what to do with you. They're absolutely clueless on what to do with all these people you brought back, and they're pretty suspicious about Teal'c."

"Well, I do have a habit of riling people up when the situation warrants it. I might say that it's one of my special talents – ow."

"Sorry about that. Once you're able to walk, McNamara's going to call another meeting to discuss the situation. He's pretty furious about you straying pretty far from your intended mission objectives. Last I heard, there's been a whole lot of furious debate with more than one storm-out almost immediately after you came back. Riling people up _is _one of your better talents, I guess."

Veronica grinned at him. "What can I say? I learned from the best."

Arcade stood up and took a moment to wipe his glasses with a cloth from his lab coat pocket. "Well, House has been suspiciously silent on the whole matter. He left behind some of his robots back on that planet, don't know what happened to them. I suppose he has his own agenda, but that's not for me to know. See you in the briefing room."

After Arcade left, Veronica took the rest of her recovery time to rewatch some holotapes of Ralphie the Robot. When she was finally able to move her legs, she informed one of the scribes nearby that she was ready for the briefing and made her way to the meeting room with the help of a crutch. It was still painful, but it was getting better. McNamara looked at her and gave her a nod, motioning for her to take a seat. The alerts for incoming wormholes had been pretty much constant after her rescue mission. Veronica sensed that McNamara was clearly furious but he wasn't trying to show it. _I could be wrong, though_…

"Your force field's been repelling all attempts to get to us so far," said McNamara. If he _was _furious, Veronica couldn't hear it in his voice. "We've already managed to contact our base on Abydos and informed that nobody can go in or out at this present time. I don't know all of the exact details of what you did in that mission, but it's pretty evident that you've drawn the attention of the enemy to us."

"They have to give up some time," suggested Daniel. "They'll get the point eventually. In the meantime, we have to figure out what to do with the refugees."

"We can send them back through the Stargate," said Veronica. "From what I've been told, they've all been abducted from their homes by this Apophis guy."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Veronica," said Ramos, "but as long as the aliens keep up this attack, we can't call out to any other gates nor can our people in the Abydos base call in. We're pretty much stuck."

"There are other problems that we also have to attend to when it comes to dealing with them," added McNamara. "We can't deal with all the refugees you brought back, especially the enemy soldier you brought in." His demeanour changed as he sighed.

Veronica chewed her lip. _No, not fury. Disappointment._

"Veronica, you know I trust your judgement, but this could quite possibly be the most reckless thing you've ever done. The others are beginning to suggest that you should be cut off from all involvement in the program, and some people are even suggesting that you should be kicked out of the Brotherhood outright."

Veronica just nodded. "I know," she said, sighing. "I know. I'm probably in way over my head now, but you have to understand the bigger picture here."

McNamara looked at her curiously, raising his eyebrow. "What are you saying, Veronica?"

"I'm saying the Brotherhood needs to change, McNamara," she said. "I know you've told me this a million times before, but in the face of a discovery like this we _really _have to reconsider our doctrine."

"That's not your decision to make, Veronica," said Ramos. "You-"

"Let her speak, Ramos," said McNamara, holding up his hand. "Go on."

"All I'm saying is that we actually have a reason to use our technology now. We can't just stockpile all of it in the name of 'preserving' it," she said. "Burying our heads in the sand won't work anymore. Not this time. This is an enemy that goes _way_ beyond anything we've ever faced before."

"Let me remind you that it was your fault that the enemy even noticed us in the first place," replied Ramos. "If you hadn't visited that planet, if you hadn't-"

"That was my fault, Ramos," interjected McNamara. "I know you disagree greatly with her, but she has a point."

"I'm glad you're starting to see things from my perspective," said Veronica. _He finally gets it, and this time I don't need Six. _She's starting to think about her again. For once, she welcomed it. If she didn't, well she was going to feel very hypocritical and that thought unsettled her.

"We can't hide from this," she continued. "They noticed us, they're angry at us, and we can't change that. But what we _can _do is fight back. We have the technology, we have the expertise. If we can just-"

"If I may," declared House's voice, his image flickering in the screen again, "this enemy is not to be underestimated. Make no mistake, they are not omnipotent either. If you wish to mount a successful defence of this facility, perhaps even this world, against them, you will require all available assets at your disposal."

Veronica just looked at him. She turned to the others and said "I hate it when he does that."

"Calm yourself, Miss Santangelo," said House. As always, there was a hint of condescendence in his voice. "It's no secret that the Brotherhood has had an ever-shrinking pool of resources for the past several years now. Your membership numbers are dwindling, and new weapons are becoming even harder to obtain. I can help you alleviate that problem."

"I'm not even going to bother asking why you're doing this," said Veronica, "but how exactly are you going to get us more supplies? I mean, our relations with-"

"You simply have to talk to an old friend," replied House. "The business has prospered greatly now that the Crimson Caravan and the Van Graffs have been taken out of the equation. She has surprisingly sharp business acumen, and the Courier speaks very highly of her."

Veronica nodded. "Don't tell me you're talking about-"

"I am, Miss Santangelo," said House. "If you make an arrangement with the head of the newly-revived Cassidy Caravans, I will ensure that you have a regular and steady supply of armaments and your obsolete process of obtaining technology through prospecting the dried-out husks of the Old World will no longer be necessary."


	8. Rising Sun

**RISING SUN**

The tribunal of senior Brotherhood members that administered the revival of the Stargate program were gathered around the briefing room. The other chapters held different reactions to what Veronica and her team had done back on Chulak. The Western Elders were furious at McNamara for allowing such a flagrant violation of the Codex, and even for allowing the mission to occur in the first place. The Eastern brothers were oddly silent on the matter. McNamara had assumed that they secretly approved of the action.

"Your scribe is overstepping her bounds, McNamara," warned one of the Western elders, a stern old man who had evidently served in the war. "First you allow her to consort with outsiders and give them the ability to influence your subordinates. You gave her authority far beyond her station, and now there's _this _most recent transgression which not only violates one of the most sacred tenets of the Codex, but has also put is in a position where we may well have drawn the attention of an enemy we have no capability to fight."

"What would you have me do, O'Hara?" inquired McNamara. "These are refugees, and-"

"We have no responsibility to interfere with the affairs of outsiders, much less aliens," retaliated the other elder. "The Codex is quite clear on that matter. We do _not _help them. We do _not _let them in. And least of all, we keep knowledge that they must _never _have. You have allowed this scribe to influence your decisions and cloud your judgement, McNamara. Although you may have done the Brotherhood a great deal of good in the past, it is clear that it is no longer the case now. If you continue on this course of action, we will have no choice but-"

"To have me abandon my position, yes," completed McNamara, who waved his hand dismissively. "I'm well aware of the consequences. However, everything I did was in the name of keeping this chapter, and perhaps the Brotherhood as a whole, safe from harm. In light of that, I've had to make compromises that I normally would not have considered had things been any other way."

"Compromises, McNamara?" The man was mocking him. "The senior council called for your head the moment they knew about your collusion with the dictator of New Vegas, this… Old World ghost. You're lucky that you've been allowed to proceed this far even after all you've done. Consider this an ultimatum, McNamara." He raised his finger and pointed it accusatorily. "If you continue with this course of action, we'll not only cast you down from your position, you and your entire chapter will be stricken from the Scrolls for the highest form of treason. Dispose of these outsiders in what ways you will. Abandon your treaty with the ghost of New Vegas, and if necessary destroy this facility so that the technology may never fall into the wrong hands."

With that, the man stood up and nodded sternly at the others accompanying him. They followed him as he stormed out of the briefing room. When they were gone, McNamara exhaled a deep sigh of frustration as he turned to the Eastern contingent who had been silent throughout this whole ordeal.

Senior Scribe Rothchild nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"_Through discourse, we gain the strength of our Brothers' minds_," he quoted from the Codex. "I'm sure they mean well, but surely they must realize that their power is becoming increasingly irrelevant."

"I know," agreed McNamara. "It's a tough time for all of us, especially after the losses we've encountered trying to keep technology out of the hands of the NCR. It took us the loss of our many of our best men and women and the destruction of our home to make us learn that the Codex isn't the answer to everything."

Rothchild nodded in agreement. "It is valuable, true, but several parts of it were written when we were the most powerful and well-equipped group in the wastes. At the time it didn't serve our interests to share, and the decision was sensible. We've all heard the stories of the horrible times back then, and we've had personal experience with that back East. Nonetheless, we kept true to Maxson's intents and did the best we could to help."

"Lyons abandoned the Codex, did he not?" recalled McNamara, who started to relax. "I'd assume that not all of your number agreed with this decision."

"A sizable sum of them, yes. They formed a group of Outcasts who even now are waging a bloody and futile war against those of us loyal to Lyons, along with any they deem unworthy to carry technology in the wastes. They may use our tools and wear our emblem, but they are not part of the Brotherhood. That doesn't stop them from believing that they are."

McNamara nodded. "Despite our supposed responsibility to obey every word of it, the Codex has done my chapter more harm than good. Nonetheless, it's an important part of who we are and we can't just let go of that. And yet…" He paused. "We're fighting a losing war and it's already cost us too much to keep going with the way things are. Despite that, they still won't let go."

"Let me tell you something, Elder," Rothchild declared. "When we were cut off from the West Coast, the situation was less than ideal. We stood alone against an army of Super Mutants and what remained of the Enclave. After we beat them, we ended up stronger than we ever did before, and obtained more technology than we could have if we had just simply stood around and took it from innocent Wastelanders like we were just a bunch of raiders. The West is losing, true, but you have no more reason to involve yourselves with them. What can they do to stop you? They have no more than a handful of personnel left after their war, and you stand here with one of the greatest treasures mankind has ever known. Let _them _go, I say. They are not the Brotherhood any more, not what Maxson intended them to be."

Although McNamara was repulsed by the suggestion, he recognized Rothchild's point. "Doing so would be treason of the highest order," he said. "But you do have a point. They're a former shell of what they once were, hunted down by an enemy that we fought simply because we didn't want them to advance. Perhaps it's time for a change." He paused for a few moments and stared ahead of him. "Hm. Perhaps it's time for a new dawn, a new day for the Brotherhood. It's time to stop running. It's time to greet the rising sun."

-=(O)=-

Head Paladin Ramos had been locked in a staring contest with the enemy soldier called Teal'c for who knows how long. He had to admit, the man with the tattooed forehead was a formidable opponent. After a while, he admitted defeat (of a sort) and cleared his throat.

"All right," declared Ramos. "Veronica tells me that you've defected from the enemy. What can you tell me about them, these… aliens?"

"They are known as the Goa'uld," explained Teal'c, whose expression had barely changed since the moment Ramos sat down with him. "They are a race of parasitic beings who inhabit human hosts in order to survive. The symbiote takes complete control and nothing remains of the host afterward. One of their most notable characteristics is the glowing eyes that occur as a result of the parasitic process, along with increased strength, resistance to disease, longer life, and enhanced abilities that would allow them to do feats that normal humans would be incapable of."

Ramos nodded along as he listened to the jaffa's explanation. He rubbed his chin, not entirely sure of how to react to this. "And you've, uh, worked for them in the past?"

"Indeed," replied Teal'c. "I am a Jaffa, and I was the most trusted soldier of the System Lord Apophis. All Jaffa contain infant symbiotes within them and carry them in belly pouches until such time as the Goa'uld matures. We are trained from childhood in the art of combat and are proficient in a wide variety of combat tactics and techniques. As an effect of carrying these symbiotes, we are given many of the same advantages as a host to a Goa'uld would have. Were we made to battle on even ground, unarmed, it is likely that I would defeat you."

Ramos raised his eyebrow. "Uh huh," he said. "Teal'c, right?"

"Indeed."

"Well, Teal'c, while I appreciate your ability to be forthcoming with this kind of information, we have to hold you as a prisoner due to the fact that you are, in essence, the enemy. Veronica might trust you, but I don't."

"That is understandable, as I have served Apophis for many years and have done many reprehensible acts in his name. However, I have always longed for freedom, true freedom, from the Goa'uld's oppression. Especially for my people and my family. I will do whatever is necessary to gain your trust. I pledge my allegiance to this world and your cause. I will give you information on everything I know of the Goa'uld. You must simply say the word, and I am yours to command."

Ramos nodded again. He was lost in thought for a few moments before he stood up and gave him a nod. "Well, we'll see about that."

-=(O)=-

Arcade Gannon and Daniel Jackson stood inside the control room, watching flashes of light hit the force field that was being projected over the Stargate. It had been a couple of days now and so far it seemed that the attacks seem to be slowing down. There was now only about two hours, give or take a few minutes, between each attack. Ibsen and his team had noticed that the Stargate's event horizon could only last for roughly thirty eight minutes at maximum, and they took advantage of the time between the attacks to dial Abydos and send equipment and people through whenever they can.

They'd worked around the force field problem by developing a system of identity verification based on the ZAX supercomputers present at each gate site. When the computers received a certain code or password, they would shut off the forcefield and send an all-clear signal for the team to proceed. This ensured that friendlies would be able to pass through the gate while possibly hostile intruders were obliterated by the force field.

"Looks like they're about ready to give up," observed Daniel, who had his arms crossed in front of him. "It's only a few more minutes until I can go back and play chess with Skaara."

"You taught him well," said Arcade. "The man beat me three times out of five."

Daniel shrugged. "Well, when you have fifty years on your hands hiding from aliens you spend a lot of it doing things you normally wouldn't be able to."

Arcade continued to stare at the gate. "I can only imagine."

When the attack subsided, Ibsen gave the go signal to the scribes as he started dialling the gate to Abydos. Daniel, Arcade and several other travellers passed through it without incident. Two figures in modified T-45d power armour walked past them once they reached the other side, carrying large bags full of construction equipment and supplies that would be used to create more structures surrounding the pyramid.

Ever since the attack on Chulak, the Brotherhood members who stayed on Abydos had been eking out a living and created a quaint little village centred on the pyramid itself. Despite Elder McNamara's suggestions, the Brotherhood had built up a rapport with the Abydonians and developed a friendly relationship with them. When they ran out of food and water that normally came from the other side when the attacks started, the Abydonians were more than grateful to lend their help and be hospitable whenever possible.

Food and water wasn't the only help the Abydonians offered, though. Members of the Brotherhood who went on patrol to Nagadah and its surrounding towns often returned with jugs of Abydonian moonshine and some of the paladins had even been given "gifts" of local girls by grateful fathers. This led to a couple of incidents where a female knight or paladin clad in power armour suddenly found herself in possession of a wife. For the most part, these gifts were gratefully returned with a sorry-but-thank-you, but at times a few members would indulge with their new spouses and soon found themselves in Schuler's office for a psychological evaluation because they suddenly discovered something called "love".

The town that had grown around the pyramid became livelier as the expedition grew. There were a couple of houses available for rent, a shooting range, a few inns, a small market where people traded goods, and even a casino of sorts. The bottle cap had risen in value since there weren't many on Abydos, and it became a de-facto currency for them after enough people had went through the gate to start gambling their money away after a few drinks.

Daniel made his way to a section of the pyramid which had been converted into an impromptu school, where he taught locals on Earth customs, at least those customs which he was still familiar with. Arcade, on the other hand, administered medical aid and taught the locals in the more technical fields of science and mathematics with the help of the scribes.

Senior Scribe Schuler and Scribe Corrick were studying a panel taken from one of the few sections still available to them in Ra's mothership. House had started exerting his control over it and forced the researchers out until the only sections left available to the Brotherhood were Ra's throne room and the antechamber where the ring transports went. Before they were forcibly evicted, several scribes reported hearing sounds in the halls that they couldn't identify with House's robots. These sounds included female voices, dog barks, and at one time something that sounded like a raspy, old man trying to act like a grandmother. They were dismissed as mania brought about by constant isolation during extended research trips in the mothership's alien environment.

Arcade walked over to them and looked at the panel. "What're you two up to?" he asked.

Schuler didn't look up from the panel. She was busy translating it. "None of your business, outsider," she replied. Corrick echoed the same response.

"How friendly," he deadpanned. He left the two alone continued his walk until he arrived at one of the workshops, where he had an understanding of a sort with one of the scribes who came from the Capital Wasteland.

Peabody, his name was. He had worked on weapons in the Citadel before he was reassigned by Lyons. He and Arcade had shared interest in the form of energy weapons and big guns.

"How's progress, Peabody?" he asked. He liked the Eastern Brotherhood members better than the Mojave ones. They were more welcoming of outsiders, even those who used to serve the Enclave. There were defectors among their ranks who had harboured hidden resentment until the defeat at Raven Rock, where they made their feelings open. Although they were met with suspicion at first, they soon proved themselves to be more than capable additions to the Brotherhood.

"Slow," replied the scribe. "I've been going over Veronica's notes, which are a complete mess by the way, and so far I've had _zero _luck in trying to replicate the power source. I know it has something to do with the naquadah, but the anal-retentives from the ship aren't allowing me access to it. I don't suppose you can convince Veronica to allow me access to that, wouldn't you?"

"She's busy meeting a friend right now," replied Arcade, "but I'll see what I can do."

Peabody smiled, patting him on the back. "Thanks, doc. You're a good friend, you know that?"

Arcade nodded, smiling back. "That I am. What's the news around here?"

Peabody turned back to the disassembled staff weapon, tinkering with the crystal as he continued to run some calculations. "Oh, you know, the usual. Some paladin or knight gets cozy with a local, starts talking about wanting to live out the rest of his days here. Schuler sets them straight, though. Usually."

"Uh huh. Well, it's been nice talking with you. If you need any help, you know where I am."

Peabody looked at Arcade straight in the eye and smiled at him. "Any plans for tonight?"

"Lot of lessons to get to," replied the doctor. He wasn't in the mood, not today.

Peabody nodded solemnly and afterwards gave him a thumbs-up as he walked away. Arcade headed over to the makeshift clinic, where a couple of Abydonians and Brotherhood members were waiting for treatment for some injury or other. He was busy treating a knight's broken shin a few hours in when a scribe rushed in and told him that his presence was requested back on Earth. On the way back, he thought he saw a cybernetic dog chasing a modified Eyebot who looked suspiciously like ED-E.

-=(O)=-

**FREESIDE**

Cass was wearing a business suit and didn't have her signature hat on, mostly because it was held in a fancy stolen coat rack that stood beside her door. Her hair was bound up in a tight ponytail, and Veronica couldn't help but notice that she pulled off the "tough businesswoman" look pretty well. Her office was in a little derelict building in Freeside near where the Van Graffs used to conduct their business. Ever since the deaths of Gloria and Jean-Baptiste and House's astonishing victory, there had been a steady decrease of demand in energy weapons across the Wasteland. This left her free to take over that section of business once the family decided to terminate its operations in the Mojave in order to cut their losses.

"So," said Veronica, who was sitting across from her behind the old, fancy-looking Pre-War desk. "You look like you've done pretty well for yourself."

"In a manner of speaking, yeah," replied Cass. She was slouching, spinning around back and forth on swivelling office chair. "I've got all the caps in the world and have an army of high-grade military fuckbots backing me, but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't so bored I might just start travelling around and drinking again."

"I can only imagine," replied Veronica, who smiled. "Glad to see you haven't lost the attitude. You must be a peach at business meetings."

Cass gave her a knowing grin. "Eh, rarely have to attend them. Raul handles most of that shit for me. For a two-hundred year old Mexican handyman ghoul, he's surprisingly good at dealing with the business-side of things. Hell, I'm thinking of kicking out that dumbass Ringo and making him my Vice President instead."

Veronica nodded, chuckling. She then cleared her throat and adopted a more serious stance. "So, uh, yeah. As you can probably imagine, I didn't come here just to catch up on an old friend."

Cass raised her eyebrow, giving her a look. "Just can't get away from the old obligation gangbang, huh?"

"Well, family has a way of doing that to you. And yeah, speaking of which, I need something. It's not my brilliant idea, despite what you might believe."

"What a surprise. Anyway, go on." Cass sat straight up. "You know if you need anything, I can get it for you. We're sisters, you and I."

Veronica beamed at her. That compliment tickled her more than she would have admitted. "Well, first, I figure you need some background. Stop me if you get bored, but anyway. I promise you won't be once I tell you about all the crazy stuff we've gone through."

Cass stopped slouching and leaned forward. "Oh, this is getting good. Go on."

Veronica leaned in. "Tell me, do you believe in aliens?"

-=(O)=-

**THE CITADEL**

The specialist walked into Elder Lyons' office, dressed in his normal travel attire. He wore an old US General long-coat layered over a reinforced blue-and-yellow jumpsuit with the numbers "101" on it. He had just come back from a Project Purity distribution run and figured that he needed to do something that wasn't as monotonous as that. He was addicted to the adrenaline that life-threatening adventures gave him.

"I'm glad you're here," said Elder Lyons. "As I'm sure you're aware, this is a matter of great importance. You must have noticed that we've been flowing the vertibirds a lot more lately. You should know why, because you're about to play an integral part in it."

The specialist squinted behind his sunglasses. "Go on."

Lyons cleared his throat. "How would you like to go to the West?"

"Say no more," replied the man, who gave his award-winning, charismatic smile. "When do we start?"

-=(O)=-

McNamara looked around the room. After his decision was made, the Western brothers stormed out in a huff and declared him a traitor, taking most of their assets and personnel with them. There wasn't much to take. He and the others decided that it was for the best, and he knew that any retaliation that would come would be beaten back if it came to blows between them.

One by one, the members of the council walked into the briefing room. The first batch to arrive was his personal staff – Head Paladin Ramos, Senior Scrube Schuler and Head Scribe Taggart. They sat down the closest to him and gave him a nod. The second batch was the detachment from Abydos – Arcade Gannon, and Daniel Jackson. The third was the contingent from the Capital Wasteland, namely Scribe Rothchild and his attendees. McNamara never bothered to get their names. They were like satellites around the man.

Finally, there came Veronica. Although McNamara had gotten used to it by now, she still surprised him when she brought in a visitor with her who was dressed in old ranger armour and a cowboy hat. When they had all sat down, he stood up and put his hands on the table.

McNamara cleared his throat and stood up, adopting a position fit for someone who's about to make a political speech. "As you know, we've been working on the Stargate for some months now. We've managed to make contact with another planet for the first time since Doctor Jackson's expedition. We've found ourselves arrayed against an enemy that may be the most powerful foe the Brotherhood, perhaps even humanity, has faced yet. We've brought together the Brotherhood – barring the most recent incident, of course, to unite in the face of this threat and to study the new technologies that they brought along with them."

He looked at the people gathered around him as he continued to explain what he was going to do. "We're all aware of the implications of what we've found here. This could hold the key to making us rise from the ashes – and it's not just the Brotherhood, but perhaps the world as well. For too long we've stayed in the dark and now the light is right in front of us. We have a duty to go towards that light, to find out what's ahead. There are thousands of worlds out there, worlds that we can visit. Worlds that can help us rebuild. To that end, I am reviving the Old World's Stargate Program."

Everyone looked at him blankly. Veronica appreciated the speech, but she knew where it was leading. She raised her hand.

"Wait, so," she said, snapping her fingers, "are we going to be explorers now?"

McNamara looked at her and nodded. "If you must, yes. We have to survey each and every world we encounter and carry out our original mission. If these worlds hold technologies that can help us rejuvenate the Wasteland, then you must acquire it. The Brotherhood's mission has always been to acquire and safeguard technology, but this time we're adding in a new one."

"And that would be…?" asked Veronica, raising an eyebrow.

"To aid the population of these worlds," replied McNamara. "The Brotherhood has always kept itself out of outsider affairs, and for good reason. That reason, has started losing its justification. If we are to survive and even thrive, we have to adopt a change of policy when it comes to dealing with these aliens."

Veronica started grinning incessantly. They finally got the point. She finally did it.

McNamara looked at Ramos and nodded, allowing him to speak.

"With that in mind, we are establishing several teams assigned to go off-world and deal with whatever alien environment we may encounter on the way," continued the paladin. "As of now, there are two teams that are planned to do this." He looked at Veronica. "Veronica, you will be part of the first. You can have your pick of anyone in this facility to help you with your surveys, but remember that there's a limit."

Veronica looked at her companions and shrugged. "Can I pick ou-"

"If necessary, yes," replied Ramos. "The second team will be supplied by our brothers from the East. Senior Scribe Rothchild, if you may?"

He turned to Rothchild. Rothchild stood up and nodded courteously. "So far, we have only one member on our team. He is known among us as the Specialist."

Veronica was astounded. "Wait, just one guy? That doesn't sound like a team to me."

"This man is a lone wanderer, so to speak," replied Rothchild. "It is likely that he will bring companions of his own to aid him. When he does so, do not be alarmed. We have utter trust in his judgement and you can be rest assured that any companion he brings with him, whether it be ghoul, human or super mutant, can pose no threat to any of the personnel here."

Everyone except for his attendants gave him one of those odd looks. Veronica, in her confusion, decided to pursue the matter further. "I'm sorry, what?" she said. "Who exactly are we talking about here?"

"The result will be evident once he arrives," he revealed. "He neglected to leave the East by vertibird and chose a land vehicle instead. As I'm told, he's making his way here now with his companions. Should the situation arise where you need assistance in dealing with a threat, you can count on this man to provide all the help you might need."

"I don't doubt that if you're saying it," said Veronica, "but I don't know anything about this guy. How can I trust him if I haven't even met him yet?"

Rothchild just smiled at her. "You will find out soon enough, Miss Santangelo."

"How vague," she muttered. She turned to McNamara. "Sooo," she repeated. "Moving on. Any word on Teal'c?"

"He is still being kept in isolation," said Ramos. "We still can't trust him. He has been surprisingly forthcoming with information, however."

"That's because he's on our side, dummy," replied Veronica. "I mean, come on. He helped bail us out and _really _hates the bad guys. What more could you want?"

"If I may," said Daniel. "Teal'c can be an asset for us. I mean, this is the man, or rather jaffa, who has even more experience than I do when it comes to dealing with the Goa'uld. You may have your misgivings about him but if it makes any difference I believe he is what he says he is."

"I appreciate your opinion, Doctor Jackson," replied Ramos, "but I'm afraid we can't just let this one free because of a gut feeling. We want to believe you, we do, but at this point in time we simply cannot trust him."

Veronica sighed. She looked at McNamara again and wore a perky smile. "So, yeah," she said. "Stiiiill working on that. Anyway, do you have names for the team yet? I'm thinking something cool, like Veronica's Ranger-"

"No," replied McNamara bluntly. He was having none of it.

Veronica frowned. "Dammit. Seriously, though. We need a name or something. And it shouldn't be something lame or a wishy-washy mythological reference thing."

Arcade piped up. "Well, on the subject of team names. Perhaps we can relate it to the Stargate." The sentence turned some looks of approval.

"I mean, think about it," he continued. "We need designations if we want to function effectively as a team. Sure, so far there are only two teams but there's bound to be more along the way as we expand the program. That means we're going to need something short, easy to pronounce. A numbering system would be good too, but it shouldn't be so complex so as to require a ZAX to type out."

"Stargate," muttered Daniel, thinking. "SG. That's it. The acronym is good, isn't it?"

Arcade looked at him, nodding along in agreement. "Yes, yes, that could work. Each team could have a prefix of SG, compounded with a specialized designation that could help us identify-"

"For fuck's sake," injected Cass, annoyed. She had found the entire conversation rather boring. "SG-1. SG-2. There. That's it. Simple, easy, catchy. It's not like it's rocket science, come on."

Her remark caused the entire room to give her a look.

Veronica pointed at her and clapped enthusiastically. "That's brilliant," she said, giggling. "Yeah, we could use those for team names. Mine can be SG-1, what with us being the first and all. That specialist guy can be SG-2. Any objections? No? Then I think we're done here."

McNamara looked at the others and nodded. "I trust everyone knows what they should do," he declared. "You will be briefed further on any developments as they come. Dismissed."

-=(O)=-

"It's about goddamn time I had some action again," said Cass as she loaded her riot shotgun. "Raul can handle all that business shit. Consider part of your payment for that constant supply of guns and supplies that I'll be forking over to you."

"How professional of you," remarked Arcade. "Are you entirely sure that the business can function without you, though?"

Cass shrugged and waved a hand dismissively. "It'll be fine. Raul's a lot more cunning than he lets on. I mean seriously, this is the ghoul that survived two hundred years after the world went and fucked itself up. I'm sure he can last another two hundred more."

"If you say so," muttered Arcade. He had eschewed his Tesla Armor in favour of a lighter combat suit which was mostly concealed by his lab coat. He figured that if he was going to new planets to meet new people, his first impression had to be less fascistic.

Veronica arrived with Daniel following behind her. She was wearing her modified T-45d suit, and Daniel wore the "inconspicuous old man" outfit that he always seemed to be wearing. She had her helmet held under one of her arms and her glove box attached to her back. She walked over to the rest of her team and let out a giddy smile.

"Eyebot's showing that it's a grassy planet of some sort," said Veronica. "Looks like this is going to be a fun first trip."

"She's never seen an actual grassy field," said Daniel with a rather smug smile. He garnered blank looks and realized that none of them had seen real, bona-fide non-radioactive grassy fields before. "Oh, right…"

Arcade spoke up. "That's probably just the section of the world near the gate, but if you-"

"-say so," completed Cass. "Yeah, we get it. Let's go, you fucks. I want to get out of this hellhole."

With that, the newly-formed SG-1 went on their maiden voyage.


	9. Dead Man

**DEAD MAN**

**2002**

**CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN, COLORADO**

Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay paced back and forth in the briefing room as he and the USSA team in charge of the expedition discussed the fate of the _Delta IV._

"No, that's impossible," insisted McKay, shaking his finger. "You can't just _lose _a space shuttle. We have the best satellite tracking equipment in the world, how in hell can we _possibly _lose _the _most important asset in our race against the commies? I'm telling you, there's a bigger aspect of this than you can't even realize."

"I'm sorry, doctor," replied the staffer. "All our sensors are indicating-"

"Well, then your sensors are _wrong_," replied McKay. "In all likelihood it was probably because you and your team didn't heed my warnings when you were in the design stages. I _specifically _said that those instruments aren't going to be in their maximum efficiency if you-"

"We heeded your specifications, doctor," replied one of the scientists monitoring the radar screens. "You were quite insistent on it, if you recall. If there's a problem, then it's not on our end."

McKay was persistent. "_Like I said_, it's impossible for us to just _lose _it. Let's put a list up of all the facts that we, or rather _you_, know." He started counting with his fingers. "First, Captain Carter's shuttle was en route to Earth after an apparent failure with the navigational systems. Second, said error almost caused her to crash into the moon. Third, she fixed the systems and managed to divert the shuttle's course back to Earth for repairs. Now, what happened after that is quite possibly the mystery we're talking about here. Tell me what happened, again."

The staffer frantically flipped his clipboard as he reviewed the report he made. "Uh," he said, "at approximately 1436 hours Greenwich Mean Time we lost all contact with the space shuttle _Defiance IV_, piloted by Captain Samantha Carter of the US Air Force while it was being monitored by surface and orbital radar positions. The sensors indicated there was no crash event, nor was there anything else to indicate that the shuttle may have burned up or exploded in mid-entry. It-"

"Simply disappeared, yes," completed McKay. "Now, did you figure out what happened to it yet? Hm?"

"Uh, no, but-"

"But! You're not me. A space shuttle just doesn't pop out of existence like that, no sir. It's clear that what happened was something that you haven't even considered the possibility of yet."

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," said the lead researcher Dr. Lee, who was sitting across the long table from McKay. "Your theory is nonsense. It's no more than a conspiracy."

"Bigger forces are at play here, Lee," he said. "If you would listen for just _one second-_"

"I don't want to hear any more of this," spat Lee. "If you don't stop with this government conspiracy nonsense, we'll have to kick you out of the program and-"

"Then do it," urged McKay. "I have no use arguing with a bunch of short-sighted idiots anyway. You'll see what I mean when those government agents come knocking at your door."

McKay stood up and stormed out of the room without so much as a word afterwards. After that, he did the only appropriate thing that he could think to do at the time. In retrospect, maybe it wasn't such a good idea.

-=(O)=-

Vulpes Inculta surveyed the legionnaires marshalled by the Centurion beside him as he stood to address them. Fresh recruits, most of them. Even now the Legion had been reeling from its devastating loss to the unseen master of the Mojave, and with the loss of the Legate things had been going very poorly for Caesar.

After losing the battle of Hoover Dam to the profligates of the West, several traitorous centurions took it upon themselves to believe that he was weak and forged dissent amongst his ranks. A bloody civil war had been raging in the frontier territories formerly made safe by the Legion, and Caesar's forces were hard-pressed to restore order to it. As a result, his health was declining far more rapidly than Vulpes had realized.

It was a time of darkness. But in darkness, there was light.

The Frumentarii had found a cache of Pre-War technology in a bunker near Colorado Springs. They decoded the information still stored in its old computers and found that there was something of great value to be found within Cheyenne Mountain, which had sustained a direct hit from a bomb during the Great War and has had its entrance covered by a massive pile of rubble.

Caesar received word of this discovery and dispatched several legions to begin clearing operations immediately. The radiation delivered by the bomb had long subsided after two hundred years of decay, which made it safe for humans to start digging it out. After several arduous months of backbreaking labour, they finally uncovered the vault door leading inside the facility.

Vulpes and his Frumentarii used one of the security codes found in the bunker to unlock the door in order to find what was inside. The initial survey revealed the facility to be mostly intact save for the upper levels. The elevator was beyond repair. The facility ran deep underground and he and his men would have a hard time covering every single inch of it. To fix this problem, he sent word to Caesar and suggested that he dispatch more men to cover all the levels as quickly as possible. His master agreed.

This brought him to the point where he stood today. He was wearing a set of armour that wouldn't set him apart from any other Legion Prime, and most of his head was concealed by his sturdy motorcycle helmet. Wearing his trademark hat and armour wouldn't serve him much purpose here. He listened to the Centurion's speech as the new recruit legionnaires stood in formation.

"It is Caesar's will that this place of ghosts, this piece of the Old World, should fall into our hands," declared the Centurion. "You are to search the facility to the very bottom of its depths and report on what you have found. Although the technology contained within it should rightfully be destroyed due simply to the fact that its mere presence causes weakness, it is his will that we must not destroy nor take anything contained within. Any legionnaire caught doing so will be crucified. _Ave!_"

"_Ave, true to Caesar!_" echoed the legionnaires. With that piece of formality done, Vulpes moved away from the makeshift stage and followed one of the squads inside the facility. As expected, the legionnaires were fresh and green, new to the ways of war with barely any battles that they could count as experience. They had been all been drawn from what tribes still remained loyal to Caesar, boys who had just finished their rites of passage. There were four of them in total, counting Vulpes. He looked over them one by one.

The first was a rather boisterous legionnaire who had been named Paxis. He seemed to be unaware of the context of such a name, but then again, especially in these times, who wasn't? He talked often about the glory and fortune that would come to him if he were simply given the chance to enter battle. Vulpes admired his ambition, but he kept his doubts silent on whether or not the man could actually fulfil them. He was carrying a lever-action shotgun, as was the custom of his tribe. Caesar erased many things when he conquered the people that now lived under his rule, but he loathed to destroy any tradition that might help them become efficient warriors.

The second was a sharp young man called Cassius. He seemed to have an affinity for repairing broken weapons and armour, and that ability had served to draw him away from serving in the front line until the times were dire enough for the Legion to draw manpower from any source available. He knew to keep his head down, and Vulpes thought that if he survived this, he would serve well in his circle of agents.

Vulpes was wary of the third. He had been raised among profligates, but nonetheless he had been accepted into the Legion as a recruit. They don't have the luxury to choose these days. His name was Aquilus, and he would have to be wary. He knew nothing of the recruit's history, nor his origin. Although he appeared to have gained the trust of the Centurion, that wasn't enough for Vulpes.

Their squad was assigned to search one of the deepest levels in the facility. They were silent as they descended down the deep stairway following the trail of the squads before them. So far there had been no significant obstacles on the way down. With confirmation that most of the facility was intact, he urged the squad to go further.

"What do you think lies down there?" asked Paxis, who was leading the way down. "If there are machines of war down there, then it would be a great challenge to slaughter one and bring its remains back to the Centurion."

"You speak highly of yourself, Pax," replied Cassius. "You can't kill a wild dog, let alone a beast made of metal. If anything, we'll enjoy watching you get slaughtered."

"As if you'll do any better," said Paxis, scoffing. "Ten denarii say I kill one before you do."

Cassius gave him a smug smirk half-concealed through the torchlight. "Why yes, I do enjoy hand-outs. Thank you."

Paxis snorted derisively. "We'll see who'll be making jokes once I win the wager."

Vulpes looked at Aquilus, who had been quiet the whole time. He had been holding his gun carefully, primed to handle anything that may come down from below. He admired the recruit's cautiousness especially when compared to the other two, but that didn't quell his suspicion.

"Which tribe do you hail from, Aquilus?" asked Vulpes while the other two were arguing.

"I was born to profligates in the West," replied the man. His face was mostly obscured by the darkness of the stairwell. "I was taken as a slave by a Legionnaire in my youth, and he taught me of the strength and righteousness inherent within the Legion. One day I hope I can achieve the honour of becoming one of the Caesar's Praetorian Guard."

Vulpes simply nodded. "Interesting," he replied. "You are quite older than most recruits, I must say. How is it that you've not served before?"

If Aquilus made an expression, Vulpes didn't see it. "I ask myself that same question all the time. It's always been my will to fight for Caesar, but why it can only happen now is beyond me. It doesn't matter now, though. I do what I have to."

They eventually reached their designated level of the facility and found that its entrance was locked. Vulpes knelt down and picked it carefully to the protest of the others who simply wanted to shoot it. They respected his authority well enough not to challenge his decision, however. After Vulpes picked the lock, he nodded at Aquilus and Paxis, giving them the signal to survey the newly-opened level.

The legionnaires entered the room cautiously, flashing their torch as they looked inside. For all intents and purposes, the facility was of basic Pre-War design. They came out into a pitch-black room extending to the left and the right. They took up positions in opposite directions, weapons pointed at the darkness to watch for any hostile enemies. They found nothing that seemed too threatening yet.

Cassius gave the signal for the others to proceed. "Clear," he declared.

The squad then split into two groups – Cassius and Paxis were to survey the part of the corridor leading left, and Aquilus and Vulpes the part leading right. Just for this occasion they were given freedom to use hand radios for ease of contact. Such a privilege was often a luxury used only for Caesar's units. Most soldiers were taught to use hand signals and other tactics in order to teach discipline and hone the senses. One of the Centurion's personal slaves had instructed them how to use it once Vulpes laid out his plan.

"There's nothing here but dust and derelict technology," observed Cassius. "We aren't going to find anything of value here. Call me suspicious if you must, but I believe there is something about this that we aren't being told."

"Are you questioning Caesar's will?" asked Paxis, who peered into one of the rooms. From what he could discern, it looked to be some sort of examination room, which he presumed to have been of use by those profligate doctors. Paxis despised doctors. From what he'd heard, they would rather choose to prolong a dishonoured warrior's life than allow them to do what should be done. Weakness must be weeded out, he remembered, not encouraged.

"No, no," said Cassius apprehensively. "All I am saying is this. Don't you believe that the man among us – who we don't even know the name of-"

"We follow orders, not question them," interjected Paxis. "All legionnaires know this."

"Yes, I know, but if you would just _listen_. This man may not be who he claims to be. For all we know, we could be involved in something that may be far beyond our capability to comprehend."

"Nonsense, Cassius. You're letting cowardice get to you. Just remember to rely on your strength and all will be good."

Cassius wasn't comforted by that sentiment. "For our sakes, I hope you're right."

Paxis smirked. "When have I ever been wrong?"

Aquilus and Vulpes found themselves in a room containing several switches and levers attached to a panel overlooking a window which revealed a dimly-lit chamber beyond. The room itself was bare except for the panel save for a few screens on the walls which had shut off a long time ago.

"That's strange," remarked Aquilus, who walked over to the window. "There is a light in that room."

"Astute observation," replied Vulpes sarcastically. "Move aside."

Vulpes walked closer with his torch and inspected the central control panel overlooking the window. The dim light revealed enough to confirm his suspicions. There was a central fusion generator in the centre of the room beyond, active but only barely.

"This is a power station," he observed. "Completely functional. I need only give the command and this facility will come to life."

Aquilus looked at him strangely. "You seem to know quite a lot about these matters."

"The only thing you need to know is that you are dealing with matters far beyond what you need to be aware of," replied Vulpes. "Keep your head down and you will be rewarded."

Vulpes handed the torch over to Aquilus as he started configuring the control panel in order to restore power to the facility. There were several flashes of light as electricity arced from the generator and the cables inside the power room. The generator gave off a hum that could be heard from three levels beyond as it was returned to full functionality. Above them, the lights started to flicker on and off one by one.

Cassius and Paxis were surveying a storage room when the power came back on. They heard whirring sounds as something in the room stirred. They raised their weapons and stood ready to attack when they received a hail on their radio.

"Cassius, Paxis," said the voice of Aquilus. He sounded like he was in desperate need of them. "We need you to withdraw to the central power room in our side of the level. You must hurry and drop whatever you are doing now."

Paxis and Cassius looked at each other and nodded as the whirs and other mechanical sounds intensified.

"Understood," said Cassius.

When they arrived at the entrance of the central control room, they came upon Aquilus who had his weapon raised and ready to fire standing guard outside.

"We are to hold this position until such time as the Centurion's man is done with his… preparations of the device," explained Aquilus. "Destroy anything that moves. We've been sealed to this level, so expect no help from the others. We stand alone, brothers."

Paxis gave him a grin. "Wonderful! More glory for us when we slaughter whatever comes."

"Don't be a fool, Paxis," said Cassius, who took hid behind the room door in order to take cover. "We may well be strong, but none of that will matter if we are outnumbered. For once, be cautious."

"I will admit I don't know what we are doing," said Aquilus. "But it must be important. We will die if we must to defend this man with… whatever it is he is doing. To arms!"

Vulpes continued to adjust the power systems as the group stood guard outside. He was aware that there was a security system installed in the facility to prevent intruders, but he didn't know to what extent. He was attempting to look for the central data servers that held what he was looking for when the first robot attacked.

A Protectron came from one of the corridors flanking the room, performing its necessary routines as it detected the legionnaires guarding the room.

"Use of deadly force authorized," said the Protectron with its trademark digital voice. Before it could fire off a shot, it was blasted by Paxis's shotgun.

"Unnatural," said Paxis, ejecting his previous shell. "These metal men are no match for us."

"Protectrons," said Aquilus. "They are likely the first line of defence in times such as these. Ready yourselves. More will come."

"Good!" bellowed Paxis, who stood ready again.

Cassius looked at Aquilus. "How do you know of this?" he asked.

"That's not important right now," replied Aquilus. "What matters is that we must protect the man in this room and help him complete Caesar's will."

"Very well," muttered Cassius, who then shot a second Protectron that managed to fire off a laser shot which almost grazed him. Sirens began whining throughout the room, signalling the activation of the security system.

The level came alive with the sound of gunfire and lasers as the security system responded to the perceived threat near the power control room. Protectrons, seemingly endless in number, crawled out of the woodwork to attack the group, who in turn made an easy time of destroying them. Almost all of their lasers managed to miss them as they took cover for the door, save for Paxis who took a more direct approach in dealing with them. To conserve ammunition, he took to rushing to melee and using his gladius rather than his shotgun. He seemed to relish the experience, and it was no wonder.

"You, take cover!" shouted Vulpes as he took the pin out of a grenade and tossed it into the corridor. Paxis heard the message and immediately rushed to the nearest corridor as it exploded, taking down the next batch of Protectrons. Vulpes took out his automatic pistol as he pointed to one of the corridors.

"We have to reach the next level," said Vulpes. "In a few minutes the facility will reach a heightened state of alarm and defending ourselves will not be as easy." He pointed to Paxis and motioned to the way leading to the stairwell. "You, take point and lead the way. The others will cover my back."

"With pleasure," replied Paxis, who grinned as he banged his gladius against his armour.

Resistance was light on their way to the stairwell. They had only encountered one Mister Handy, which Cassius easily dispatched with a shot to the central power unit. When they got to the stairwell, they realized that the situation wasn't just on their level. Above them, they heard a cocktail of noises that included gunshots, explosions, screams, and battlecries as robot fought legionnaire. Vulpes instructed the team to ignore it as they started to descend.

Vulpes led them to the second-to-last level of the facility. It was there that they encountered their first minigun-equipped sentrybot. He immediately ordered them to take cover as soon as he came in sight of the robot.

"TARGETS ACQUIRED" said the Sentrybot as it opened fire into the stairwell. A cloud of dust began to well up as pieces of the wall were shot out by the robot. Paxis was caught directly in its line of sight and he was immediately pulverized by gunfire. The team was covered in his blood as he was practically turned into mincemeat. Cassius almost panicked before Aquilus shut him down with a quick punch to the face. Vulpes simply pulled the pin on another grenade as he tossed it blindly into the room.

That did the trick. The explosion took out the sentrybot and allowed the team to go into the level. Cassius was shaken up by his friend's death, but kept his composure as he followed Vulpes, who had taken the lead as he knew where they needed to go.

Vulpes led the group to a computer room and instructed the remaining two squad members to guard him. "Do not under any circumstance let them through," he said. "I have said this before, but if you have forgotten, let me remind you; this work is of utmost importance to the Legion. Succeed in this task, and you will be rewarded greatly."

They got the message. Once more they took cover behind the door with weapons pointed outside, ready to attack anything that moved. Vulpes got to work with booting up the data computers. He used the codes from the Colorado Springs bunker to open the database and gather as much information as he could while gun and laser fire was exchanged outside.

"We cannot hold them for much longer!" shouted Cassius as he reloaded his rifle. "They are endless in number. We cannot defeat them all."

"Patience, recruit," advised Vulpes. He was about to finish his download of the data. Once that was done, he moved to another console and set to work on disabling the security system. "It will not last for long. Keep fighting."

Cassius nodded as he took aim at a sentry bot. No matter how many shots he fired, it seemed that the machine just shrugged off his bullets. Aquilus took out a device from his pouch and tossed it towards the machines. It exploded with a blast of strange purple light. The electricity that arced from it shorted out the robots and disabled them while barely harming the two legionnaires.

Cassius looked at Aquilus suspiciously. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

"That's a question for another time," he replied, turning back to Vulpes. The pulse gave the Frumentarii the time he needed to make the final adjustments. When he pressed the button, the sirens fell silent. Cassius and Aquilus looked around. No new robots were coming through.

"It is done," said Vulpes. "No more harm should come to us. Follow me. We have one last thing we need to look at before we leave this forsaken facility."

Cassius followed Vulpes as he led him to the lowest level of the facility, which seemed a lot colder than the previous one.

Cassius looked behind him and frowned, turning to Vulpes. He tried not to shiver but the chill was far too strong. "Where is Aquilus?" he asked.

Vulpes looked at Cassius and then behind him. The other man was gone. He grunted. "He will not last long. The others will find him. Caesar does not take kindly to deserters. In the meantime, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

Vulpes came to a Vault-Tec styled door and accessed the control panel, opening it to reveal a large room containing racks of semi-transparent tubes, dimly lit by blue lights between each tube. It was even colder than the rest of the level, and the temperature was getting to him. He kept his composure, however. Cassius wasn't so resilient. The man was practically shaking.

He walked over to a tube and inspected it more closely. Its transparent surface had been coated over by frost which he wiped away with his hand. Inside was she saw the face of an adult woman with short blonde hair, who looked to be asleep. He looked at the others pods and deduced that they all contained people inside them.

"An interesting development," he muttered as he walked around the cryogenic facility, inspecting the pods laid out before him. Based on what he found intelligible from the Colorado Springs files, most of these people were still alive: figures kept alive by the Pre-War world in case they would ever be needed for some purpose or other. The exact nature of the experiment eluded him and his agents, but he knew not to turn down an important advantage when he needed it most.

Vulpes knew about the potential of these subjects to act as a new batch of slaves for the Legion, especially since a lot of them had skill and expertise that would help the empire consolidate its power. He was inspecting one of the pods when he heard a hydraulic hiss from somewhere nearby. He turned to see a man come stumbling out, looking around dizzily. Cassius pointed his gun at him and Vulpes followed suit.

The man looked at them both and stared blankly, frowning. Without many options on the table, Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay raised his hands above him, putting them behind his head as a form of surrender.

"Oh no no no no," he muttered. "I'm a dead man."

-=(O)=-

SG-3 was assembled as a coalition of forces between the Mojave and the Capital Wasteland chapters of the Brotherhood. SG-2 hadn't arrived yet, but it was reported that he was making several stops on his way to the West. SG-3 was composed of three members so far: a paladin, a scribe, and a knight.

Their voyage was interrupted when Ibsen received a sudden transmission on his computer screen. This time, it didn't come from House. He called for McNamara and the other elders to study this new development.

"It looks like some sort of Pre-War signal," he said to McNamara. "Very specific frequency. It looks like there was a network between these bases throughout the country."

"Don't be alarmed if there are," said House, who had once again made another abrupt appearance on a computer screen. "I assure you, none of them have a Stargate."

"What do you know of this transmission?" asked McNamara as he looked at House. "Could there be other parties that know of this facility's existence?"

"If there were, I would tell you only as much as you needed to know," replied the man on the screen. "But you don't need to worry about that. Your safety is ensured, if you recall the terms of our agreement. No, this transmission is of a different nature. It's a distress signal. A breach, if you will."

With that, he disappeared again. This garnered a sigh of annoyance from McNamara.

"Where's it coming from?" asked Rothchild.

Ibsen checked the instruments and looked like a lakelurk had just appeared in front of him. "Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. That's odd… Based on what we know, it was destroyed by a direct hit from the bombs back in the War."

"Apparently it wasn't," mused Rothchild. "In any case, we have to investigate this matter as soon as possible."

Ramos looked at him and frowned. "I admire your drive to pursue this matter, but we have a problem with that plan."

"Which would be?" asked Rothchild, raising an eyebrow.

"That's Legion territory."


	10. Infected

**INFECTED**

SG-1 stepped out of the Stargate and came into view of a forest shrouded in the shadows of the night. The Eyebot probed showed it to be somehow locked into two sides – one side of the planet was always stuck in darkness while the other was covered in its main star's light; an eternal night and an eternal day. The scribes sought to investigate this phenomenon in the hopes of finding a way to encourage the growth of UV-reliant plants in the Wasteland that didn't require the use of the GECK, which wasn't really something you could find just lying around in random ruins.

They designated the planet as P03, a self-explanatory designation which mean that this was the first planet that SG-1 visited after Abydos. It was just a temporary designation until they could settle on a more reliable naming system. Petty political arguments were a pretty universal event that occurred in every single group, and the scribes were no exception. Taggart insisted on the use of one system. Schuler butted in and insisted that the system had flaws. Rothchild objected and said that they should settle on something more objective. The cycle goes on and on.

Veronica didn't really care about that sort of thing, though. She would have been fine if she had been the one to choose a system, but McNamara believed that the matter should be left up to the more senior intellectuals. She didn't really _ask _him per se, of course, but she thought that the rejection was pre-emptively implied.

She and the rest of SG-1 walked through the dark forest unperturbed by its supposed vibe. Except for Daniel, they all had experience walking through this sort of environment. The only differences this time were that there were less cazadors around and that Six wasn't there to spark debates on moral philosophy and make extremely crude jokes that somehow got everyone – even normally stoic Arcade Gannon, dissolving into fits of post-traumatic laughter after encounter with said cazadors.

Although the place gave off a less-than-welcoming vibe, she preferred to enjoy the little things in life, like living in the moment. This moment wasn't exactly at the top of her list, but it would do. Daniel was telling her and the rest of the group what an orange was after he made an analogy that pretty much went entirely over their heads. After he explained, there was spirited debate between him, Cass, and Arcade about what a fruit is, whether or not they were delicious, and of course there was the inevitable devolution into discussion about phallus-shaped objects. It was at that point that Daniel stayed out of the conversation.

"I'm telling you," insisted Cass, who had expanded her arms in a gesture that was supposed to mean that she was holding a huge cucumber, "if they could be _this _big-"

"I see your implication there, Cass," said Arcade, "but I don't think you're supposed to be suck the fruit like it' some sort of-"

"Shut up," entered Veronica, who ordered them to silence by raising her hand. "I heard something."

SG-1 got the signal and started looking around with their night-vision optics. Daniel didn't have one, so he just took cover behind the three of them. For a god-killer, he was surprisingly hesitant to take up arms when it came down to it. Nonetheless, his expertise was valuable when they came into contact with cultures that had been transplanted from Ancient Earth. Him and Arcade went absolutely bonkers with the first contact clause and studied as hard about the alien cultures as they could in order to feed their insatiable hunger for knowledge.

There were grunts, beatings against the wood which sounded like wood hitting wood. A man began to shout.

"_Help!" _he cried. His voice was hoarse, like he'd been running for a long time and he was starting to get tired. "Help! Get away from me, you fiends!"

His cries were responded to by what sounded like a swift hit to the head with a club. This spurred SG-1 into action as they went to the source of the likely bad event. They found a campfire surrounded what appeared to be hunched men and women bearing crude, primitive wood and stone arms carrying someone who looked a bit more normal in comparison.

"They sound like ghouls," commented Cass, who was aiming down the sights of her riot shotgun.

"They might," agreed Arcade. He examined them further by zooming in through the scope of his Q-35 Matter Modulator. "But they look more like those illustrations of primitive humans to me, around one step previous in our evolutionary ladder. Troglodytes, I believe they were called. Incidentally, a common term used to describe-"

"We're familiar with the concept, Doc," interjected Veronica, who was putting on Theodore.

Hiss. Click. Hum.

She fiddled with a small dial under the glove's cover and tuned it to a level of power that would be designed to stun, not to kill. "Biological history isn't really my strong suit, though, so we should debate this maybe _after _we save that guy from whatever these things are. Try not to kill any of 'em, though. We ought to bring one of these folks back alive with us for Schuler and her goons to study."

"That's reckless," objected Daniel. "We can't just uproot these people from their homeworld. We don't have the right to play-"

Veronica raised a power-gloved hand over his face as she told him, non-verbally, to can it. "You know I love ya, Doctor Jackson, but right now we can't afford to make that kind of judgement. These folks clearly aren't giving off a good first impression, right now it looks very much to me that they _may _just be a bunch of bad guys. We can talk about this when we take 'em out, okay?"

Daniel couldn't raise an objection. He simply nodded silently as he took cover behind a tree.

"It's showtime," said Cass as she loaded a round of bean-bag shots into her riot shotgun. She was the first to walk forward, taking down one of the troglodytes point-blank and knocking him unconscious. The man flew backwards and hit a tree. The impact created a sound not dissimilar to someone's bones cracking under extreme pressure. The others looked at her and immediately dropped the man they were carrying, running over to attack her with their clubs.

Cass quickly swivelled the shotgun around without missing a beat and knocked another one out before he could even get close.

This was when Veronica joined the festivities. She came out of the shadows with her palm up, hitting one of the female-looking troglodytes straight in the gut. She screamed out in agony with an unusually deep, rumbling voice as she was given an impromptu session of electroshock therapy. She fell down to the ground convulsing like she was having an epileptic fit. Veronica never stopped to look at her before she knocked the next target out with a swift uppercut. She slid back into the darkness as Cass continued to blast away with reckless abandon and found Arcade and Daniel huddled and hiding near a bush.

"Doc?" she asked quizzically. "Shouldn't you be helping us?"

"I don't exactly have a non-lethal weapon on hand," he said. "Unless, of course, you want these folks to end up looking like the next Lascaux."

"Right," she said, before she was hit by a club in the head in a moment of distraction. She didn't bother to look behind her when she started to run back Her vision became blurry as she stumbled round like a headless chicken, trying to make sense of her surroundings in an attempt to retaliate. There wasn't much she could do, though. Her vision failed, and she fell unconscious. The last things she heard were the sounds of the good doctor spitting out a flurry of mild curses followed by flesh and innards being torn apart by blazing-hot and undoubtedly lethal plasma bolts.

-=(O)=-

Veronica came back to her senses inside the Stargate facility's infirmary, back on Earth. She felt like a Vertibird had fallen on her. She tried to sit up, but it took her a few tries before she succeeded. She was surrounded by a wall of energy fields, and there were two people standing in front of her wearing advanced radiation suits. She looked down and found that she'd been taken out of her clothes and placed in a patient gown.

Confused, she tried to move her legs and step out of the bed. It was then that she discovered her ankles were bound by a couple of manacles. She looked at them and saw that they weren't even made of metal – they were just a couple pieces of rope tied together.

"Slow down, Veronica," said the radio-amplified voice of Arcade, who was one of the figures standing next to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh, I don't know, doc," she replied. "Peachy, with maybe a ten percent chance of feeling-like-crap. I could use a Fancy Lad right about now. What's with the suits? And the cage?"

"Well, you might want to sit down for this," he continued. "Or, rather, lie down… Doesn't matter. To make a long story short, we think you're infected with some sort of alien-designed disease. Schuler's scans confirmed as much. You may not be feeling its adverse effects now, but it's only a matter of time before you do."

Veronica blinked a few times, trying to process the information. "I'm sorry, what?" she asked. "I feel just fine, well at least as fine as someone who just had their living daylights knocked out of them can be. There's no need for these…" she shook her feet. "little things."

"It's just a precaution, Veronica," he declared. "Until we can study this condition further, you'll just have to be kept under guard."

Veronica tried to protest, but she was rudely interrupted by two armoured paladins who stormed into the room.

"Doctor Gannon," said one of the paladins, who Veronica recognized as one of the new members of SG-3, "it's getting worse. The disease has spread to more of the levels. We've taken what steps we could to contain them, but-"

"All right, all right," muttered Arcade, who looked at Veronica and nodded. "Just stay put, Veronica. We'll get some help for you soon."

"I'd love that, but an explanation would be-"

Arcade and his unnamed rad-suited aide were ushered outside by the paladins, leaving before Veronica could even finish her sentence.

"-great," she muttered, sighing as she lay back down in the bed. She looked at her restraints and started working to remove them.

-=(O)=-

"We've just received word from the Citadel," said Rothchild as he addressed the Stargate program's administrative council. "They won't be flying vertibirds with personnel and equipment here anymore until they can secure a new, preferably steady, source of fuel for them. This operation is becoming a huge drain on our supplies and right now we'll have to make do with what men we do have."

"This is troubling news," said McNamara. Ever since he took control of the new program, it seemed like he had become a few years older. It was stressful, but he knew the responsibilities that he would assume. "With the West officially declaring us traitors to their cause, we will basically be stuck with no manpower coming in. We'll have to be more cautious with the men and women we send out on missions."

"I trust the equipment won't be a problem," said Rothchild, raising an eyebrow.

McNamara shook his head. "It won't. Cassidy Caravans has so far provided to be a reliable supplier, so it won't be an issue for the foreseeable future. This manpower problem reared its head sooner that we'd hoped, however. Without additional reinforcements, we won't be able to send any of our people through to investigate the signal that came from Cheyenne Mountain."

"That will have to wait another day, but it should still be a top priority. If it's true that the location contains some important Pre-War technology, then the Legion…"

"I'm well aware of the implications," said McNamara, sighing. "But we have no choice. Unless we can secure support from another chapter of the Brotherhood with the resources to send us more people, then we might as well be dead in the water."

"We've contacted the SG-2 to see if he might stop on his route to check out what happened in Colorado. With any luck, he might be able to investigate the source of the signal and discern what happened there. It will be several weeks before we receive any word from him again, though."

McNamara nodded. "Let's hope he's as resourceful as you say he is, then. In the meantime, we'll have to see about securing some additional manpower."

Rothchild looked at him pensively. "You know, there is the option of recruitment."

McNamara glowered. "Out of the question. We may have forsaken parts of the Codex, but we cannot allow outsiders, especially alien outsiders to have access to our technology. For all we know…"

"You trust them, don't you?"

"To an extent, yes, but-"

"It worked for us, McNamara. Trust me; these are grateful people who will be glad to serve with all your ability. When we recruited wastelanders into our chapter, there was fierce resistance and…"

"I'm well aware of the specifics of your situation, Rothchild. You started a civil war."

"Then don't you see how they're alike? Your men are more loyal to you than ours were to Lyons. I have no doubt that they'll support you no matter what decision you choose to make. They will be uncomfortable at first, but given time they'll come to accept these outsiders as one of their own."

McNamara was silent. He didn't exactly know how to answer the question. He opened his mouth to reply but the door to the briefing room abruptly opened up to reveal several figures in radiation suits accompanied by paladins in their full power armour.

"Elder McNamara," said one of the figures clad in radiation suits who McNamara recognized to be Ibsen. "We have a situation."

McNamara looked at him, then at the council. They nodded at him. Ibsen explained his plan to mitigate the disease.

-=(O)=-

Once again, Ramos was interviewing Teal'c. Throughout their sessions together they seem to have developed an understanding with each other. Neither of them liked the way things were going, and if things had gone better perhaps they would have been friends. Of course, right now the way they were doing things could kind of be seen as friendship. They talk to each other all the time to discuss a lot of things, and they held a lot of similar views on several subjects.

"You seem to be doing well, today, Teal'c," said Ramos, who was sitting in a somewhat relaxed, if not bored, stance. "Do you have any more information to tell us?"

"You may simply ask the question and I will answer it, Head Paladin Ramos," replied Teal'c. "There are many things about the Goa'uld and the jaffa that you do not know."

Ramos leaned forward, grunting. "Well, I haven't had my fun fact of the day yet. Go on and tell me."

Teal'c nodded. "Very well. Many jaffa do not actually believe that the System Lords that they serve are omnipotent. Many are simply making the best of the situation handed to them, for if they have done otherwise they would simply be slaves. Many do it out of a sense of duty to their families, to their villages. While there are a great many who do…"

As Teal'c proceeded to lecture Ramos on the inner workings of Goa'uld society and Jaffa warrior culture, Ramos caught the glance a group of knights in rad suits were escorting a seemingly rabid Veronica, who was had a piece of cloth draped over her and nothing else, over to a holding cell. He looked at Teal'c and nodded, causing him to pause. Teal'c raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is there something wrong, Head Paladin Ramos?" asked Teal'c.

"Yes there is," he said. "We'll have to continue this another time. We have a situation."

"Then perhaps I may be of assistance."

Ramos looked him up and down and put on his helmet. Steam hissed as the hydraulic locks sealed themselves. He nodded at Teal'c and opened the door, pointing to one of the knights standing guard. "You, come with me. The prisoner goes too. Don't let him out of your sight."

"Very well, sir," said the knight, who looked at Teal'c as he walked out of the room following Ramos.

"What is happening?" he asked as they walked down the corridor. Ramos was hot on the heels of the knight escorting Veronica. He had just received word from his HUD when he was informed of the situation.

Ramos had almost caught up to Veronica. "A viral outbreak of an alien disease. She was supposed to be in restraints, but apparently she got out. You said that your symbiote protects you from disease, correct?"

Teal'c nodded. "Indeed."

"Right. If you get infected, we'll have no choice but to put you down."

"I understand," replied Teal'c.

"I'm glad we can come to an agreement, then." When he caught up to the group, he looked at Veronica. She was thrashing about wildly, shouting incoherent gibberish at the two knights escorting her. "What's going on?"

"We found her trying to, ah," said one of the knights with a pause, "mate with one of the uninformed female scribes near the infirmary. We pulled her off the woman and got some clothes on her before anything serious happened, but the scribe has been put under quarantine. As it stands, the outbreak is spreading faster than we anticipated. We got as many people in suits at we could, but at this point a lot of them are already showing early stages of the disease."

"What does this… disease do, exactly?" asked Ramos.

One of the knights stopped walking and let his companion take a firm grip of Veronica as he started explaining all that he could to Ramos. "Based on Gannon and Schuler's research, it does something to the brain and essentially reverses evolution. Sounds completely illogical, I know, but that's the best way they could explain it." He took a moment to remember what was told to him. "Basically, makes you focus on the primal instincts. You know, fighting and reproduction. Gannon's been infected. We found him in a shouting match with one of the nearby knights and drew his ripper in anger before we took it from him and restrained him. Schuler's trying to work on a cure back on Abydos. She's immune for some reason, don't know why. No infections reported there yet, though. Daniel Jackson and that Cassidy woman are attempting to negotiate with the other natives of the planet in order to get to the root cause of the problem. SG-3 has been ordered to remain off world for the time being."

As they led Veronica to one of the holding cells, they saw a group of armoured paladins a pair of stunned, scribes between them. Ramos pointed to one of the paladins.

"What happened to them?" asked Ramos.

"They got into a fight," said one of the paladins, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. "It's been happening all over the place. We've got increasing reports of attempted sexual assault in some of the other levels as well. If we don't manage to get this thing fixed soon, all hell's going to break loose."

"Looks like it already is," commented Ramos.

When they reached the holding cell and assigned the infected to their respective cells, several of the knights and paladins looked at Teal'c suspiciously then turned to Ramos.

"What about him?" asked one of the guardians.

"He's immune," said Ramos. "Th-"

"My symbiote protects me," said Teal'c. "Although you may have misgivings about my allegiance, I assure you that I will do everything I can to help."

One of the paladins nodded at him as she checked her HUD. "We're we won't be able to hold them here for very long if the numbers of those infected keep on rising. Go with one of the apprehension teams and bring back as many of them here as you can _without _resorting to force. Do you understand?"

"Indeed," replied Teal'c.

-=(O)=-

It was several hours later when Daniel and Schuler managed to figure out the problem and isolate the substances required to manufacture the cure. They were sent over to Abydos once they'd wired the information through to the facility back on Earth. Cass was found to have been infected after trying to have her way with one of the knights and they were both sent over to be immediately quarantined. With a limited amount of sedatives on hand, the Brotherhood had to implement heavy segregation in the facility's holding cells in order to keep the prisoners in order.

Those who were found to be immune or otherwise uninfected were all gathered near one of the cells as a rad-suited McNamara detailed what they were going to do.

"Distribution will be done by way of aerosols," he explained. "Before he came down with the disease himself, Rothchild came up with the idea to spread the cure in as wide an area as possible in the shortest possible time. This means that we will have to release all of our prisoners from their cells and corral them into the shooting range on level twenty three. Some of you may have objections to this, but keep in mind that we're doing this for the greater good. If this fails, we will abandon the facility and relocate to our secondary base of operations on Abydos. Is that understood?"

The group gave varied signs of agreement. Some nodded, some just said "yes" or "affirmative". They went to the levels that had been designated as holding cells and led the infected to one of the recently-cleared shooting ranges like cows to a slaughter. The air vents had been jury-rigged to deliver the cure as quickly as possible, and they stood ready to spread the gas at the press of a button. McNamara called for a headcount and instructed all remaining personnel to gather themselves in front of the shooting line.

"Is this all of them?" he asked.

"It looks like it," observed Ramos. "Teal'c should be heading back with the last of them. If this works, we'll have eliminated the problem in one fell swoop."

"Let's hope it does, Ramos," said McNamara hopefully.

Just then, Teal'c got a familiar feeling in his gut. All those who possess a symbiote had a knack for finding others of their kind, be they either jaffa or Goa'uld host. He looked at one of the uninfected near the range and recognized the man. Hell, he'd even carried him back to Chulak. He tried to push his way through the throng and tried to get past the chaos. He pointed his finger at the scribe and shouted. "We have a Goa'uld in our midst!"

The scribe looked back at Teal'c and his eyes flashed with a yellow glow. This elicited surprised responses from McNamara, Ramos, and the rest of the other uninfected. The scribe forced a nearby knight out of the way and began running to the elevators. Teal'c began to chase after him.

Without hesitation, Ramos loaded his AER-9 laser rifle and looked at two of the uninfected paladins. "You and you," he pointed. "Don't let that apprentice out of your sights. Run as fast as you can and try to take him down. Use non-lethal force when possible. Do not engage the prisoner – he's with us."

"Understood," they both said as they followed Teal'c and the initiate.

The scribe was the first to get the elevator. With Teal'c closing in fast behind him, he quickly pressed the button to the floor of the Stargate control room, which was no longer occupied after Ibsen and his team were put under quarantine. The elevator doors closed just as the jaffa came within melee range, allowing the scribe to escape. The two paladins following him attempted to use the other elevator, but it had evidently been sabotaged somehow. They had to take the long way down.

-=(O)=-

"We haven't heard from them in a while," mused Daniel Jackson as he stood next to Schuler in front of Abydos' Stargate. "Think they're all right?"

"I hope so, Doctor Jackson," replied Schuler. "Buffoon that he is, Taggart doesn't deserve to die like that."

"Well, we don't know that it's lethal-"

"You know damn well what I mean," she interjected. "If this were the earlier Brotherhood, there was no doubt that you probably would have been executed on the spot for even daring to pose a risk."

"Well, there's that I suppose…"

"This isn't the world that you used to live in, doctor," she said, sighing. "We've all had to endure hardships that you probably would never have imagined back in your time."

"Okay," said Daniel apprehensively. "I hope you don't mind me venting, but I just feel that I have to say at least _something_ to someone. Look, just because I come from before the war doesn't mean that I'm all entitled about it. I know that you folks have been through a whole lot and I'm truly sorry for that, but it's not my fault my descendants, uh, not strictly speaking I didn't really have any, but that's beside the point, decided to send the entire world over to hell. I told you everything I could about the past, and you told me it was nothing new. I've said, again and again-"

Schuler held up her hand and rubbed her forehead, sighing. "Look, I get it, Doctor Jackson. You don't have to go on a tirade. I'm just a little tense, that's all."

Daniel looked at her and nodded, sighing as well. "Sorry. Tough time for all of us. Good job finding that cure, by the way. Just hope it works."

It was then that the gate started dialling by itself. They both recognized an incoming wormhole when they saw one.

Daniel and Schuler gave each other a quizzical look. They stepped out of the way of the incoming disintegration wave. When the wormhole had established itself, the forcefield was deactivated. They turned to the scribes manning the control panel near them and silently asked if they received any news by way of that strange nod that people do when they want to ask something. The scribes shrugged. They looked at the gate, puzzled.

"Well, that's weird," muttered Daniel.

A man flew out of the wormhole and landed on the pyramid floor with a thud. His chest had been hit point blank with what looked like a staff blast. Daniel recognized the man as one of the scribes who had been taken by Apophis to Chulak.

Daniel blinked at the sight of the dead man and turned to Schuler, pointing his thumb backwards at the corpse. "Okay, _that's _weird."

-=(O)=-

It had been a few hours after the disease had been eradicated from the facility's population. McNamara called for another council meeting. He was hoping, as he always did, that House wouldn't butt in for this one as he was so prone to do. He wasn't holding his breath for that possibility, however. Annoying and degrading as it was, he had to admit that the supposed man had offered them a lot of help in getting the program up and running.

"I did _what?_" asked Veronica, who had just been told about the incident with the scribe. She slapped herself in the face hard enough to make a sound that reverberated throughout the room. She rubbed her cheek afterwards and wondered why she did that. "Oh, kill me now…"

"Don't worry about it," muttered Cass. "I'm sure she doesn't even remember a thing. Hell, I don't."

"Actually…" muttered Arcade, before Cass gave him that look that meant that he was in on something. He shut up pretty quickly. "Yeah, she probably doesn't remember anything."

"You can exchange stories about your supposed actions later," said McNamara authoritatively. "Right now we have to discuss what to do with the jaffa that you've brought with you when you returned from Chulak."

"We've been over this," said Veronica. "Teal'c is a good guy, and-"

"We don't doubt that, Veronica. After what he did to that infiltrator, there's no question about his loyalty. The problem is finding a role for him."

"He could join SG-1," suggested Veronica. "A guy like that on our team would be pretty useful. I mean, he _does _have a lot of experience in dealing with the Goa'uld."

"We've thought of that, Veronica," said McNamara, "but for the time being we think it's best to keep him in reserve. Once we know what he's capable of, we'll try and assign him to a team. And as it stands right now, SG-3 needs him more than you do."

"Aww," whined Veronica. "Well, if you ever change your mind-"

McNamara cleared his throat, interrupting Veronica's sentence. She gave him a sour look, which he ignored. "Moving on… Several hours ago, we were informed that the chapter in the Capital Wasteland will no longer be able to deploy any further personnel or equipment here as fast as they did. They've cut off the vertibird trips in order to conserve fuel."

Veronica frowned. "Are you saying that they won't be helping us any more?"

"Effectively, yes. We're on our own now."

"That sucks."

"What about recruiting personnel from outside the Brotherhood?" asked Arcade. "You can't possibly expect this program to survive if-"

"Out of the question, doctor," retorted McNamara. "We've said this time and time again, and I don't want to repeat it. It's in our best interest to ensure that this program is kept as much of a secret as possible. If you're done with your responses, let's move on to the next subject."

"The naming system," said the voice of Schuler from the table radio.

Veronica had a lot to say on that subject. She exchanged points with Schuler for an hour or so after McNamara and the others had left silently, leaving them to argue on their own. They never agreed on a solution that they could agree on and ended up with the status quo, meaning that the current planet naming system was still in effect. Veronica would have her day eventually, though. She was sure of that.


	11. Hunting Shitheads

**HUNTING SHITHEADS**

Veronica felt naked without the powerful, bulky, and heavily modified toy that was her set of naquadah-enhanced T-45d power armour, her trusty Bullet-Eater-Suit. Although it wasn't originally part of the Brotherhood's stash, they still felt the need to restrict its use with some mumbo jumbo about "conserving what they had". Aside from the suits brought over by the folks from the Citadel, all of their power armour suits were drawn from their Pre-War stockpiles. McNamara and those anal-retentive geniuses over at the armoury had told her that they can't risk losing any more suits, especially after the stunts she'd pulled at Abydos and Chulak, along with that planet where SG-3 acquainted the Brotherhood with the first off-world ghouls.

Veronica knew only one member of that team who came from the local group – in fact, she tried to rendezvous with her a few weeks ago during that "alien disease" debacle. She was also the one of the scribes that accompanied her during the initial expedition. The other two were drawn from the Capital Wasteland, a chapter more willing to lend their manpower that stood in stark contrast to the Mojave chapter's hesitation when it came to risking their people. They'd proven themselves to be more than capable when it came to off-world operations, particularly with the addition of Teal'c after McNamara finally allowed him to help out.

She was wearing one of the lighter outfits that she used back when she was travelling with Six and needed to be inconspicuous: a vest of reinforced light body armour hidden by a long gecko leather coat that went down to her legs. The outfit was very brown and didn't make her feel much of a woman, nor was it as heavy-duty as standard combat armour or even a scrap-metal suit but it kept her standing good enough. Arcade donned the trademark "combat-doctor" suit that he wore when he needed to be "diplomatic". They were the only members of SG-1 who used power suits enough to be familiar with their operation on a regular basis, and the only ones who were affected by its ban.

Daniel had his usual "wise old man" robe and hood. Cass had the customized Desert Ranger outfit she got from Six. All told, they looked like a pretty good and mismatched team. The thought had crossed their minds to establish some sort of uniform so they can act as representatives for Earth, but they didn't really manage to reach a common consensus on what that representation should be. In the end they just settled on a symbol that they assumed the aliens would be familiar with. The design was pretty simple, really – the point of origin Stargate symbol for earth, and the designation of the team that bore them. They didn't actually make the patches yet, but Veronica was planning to put them on her shoulder like those Pre-War soldiers did with the national symbols.

She was interrupted on her musings when Daniel started snapping his fingers at her staring-at-the-wall face. She blinked for a few moments before she remembered where she was. It was a tavern in a planet with a technology level that matched that of Medieval Earth, and yet in some ways it was more advanced than the Wasteland. The natives were apparently descended from a nomadic people from somewhere in Central Asia and over time they came to live a somewhat more permanent lifestyle.

They'd been relaxing for a few hours after saving the natives from a whole lot of trouble that could've meant extinction for them. They were more than grateful to hold a party in their honour, and although Arcade and Daniel gave some protest to the idea, they eventually relented thanks to the overwhelming pressure put on by Cass and Veronica. As usual, Cass always did the first thing on her list of Things To Do For Fun: have a drinking contest.

She looked at the table where the contest was happening and was greeted with the sound of the crowd yelling "_Drink! Drink! Drink!" _at both sides. People were handing over the local currency to a woman who'd designated herself as the local officiator of the betting contest. Both of the contestants seemed to be holding well, but she could see that they were starting to break.

Daniel continued snapping his fingers. "Hey. Hey. Hello? You there? Veronica?"

Veronica looked at Daniel and blinked again. She ran a hand through her hair, and realized that she didn't have her hood on. That distressed her, slightly. Although it had grown a bit since the time she met Six, it was still rather short. She didn't really know why she was anxious about it, but she supposed that it was one of those mysteries beyond her expertise. She was sitting across from him in front of a table. She'd just finished eating a local delicacy which tasted a lot like Brahmin Wellington. She liked it well enough that she demolished the first plate and immediately asked for seconds. Daniel told her it was the planet's equivalent of Kobe beef, but she didn't know what that was. She stopped him before he went on another one of his Pre-War cultural expositions.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I am. What's up?"

"Thought we lost you there for a second," said Daniel. She followed Veronica's gaze, looking at Cass and nodding. "Yeah, you need to tell Cass to wrap the game up a bit faster. We're due to go back to the base in an hour."

Veronica gave him a smirk. "Oh, man. You don't know how hard that is. It's like trying to punch out a Deathclaw with your bare fists, which by the way I-"

Daniel held up his hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know. I still don't know what a Deathclaw is, but you told me the story a hundred times already, I think. I don't keep count. At any rate, you have to tell the cowgirl back there to, uh, what's the word, something, her horses."

"I don't know what _that _is either, but yeah. Like I said, it's hard. Better to wait for her to finish it and end up passing out just after winning. Trust me, I know how she works."

Daniel looked at her, turned his head, and looked at Cass. He turned back and nodded. "Guess I'll have to trust your judgement on that. Just make sure it ends quickly, okay?"

Veronica nodded. "From the looks of it, it's about to. She usually wins after about an hour or so. She's thirty minutes beyond that point, but she can do it."

Daniel stood up as he looked around. "Yeah, well, if you need me I'll be, uh," he said, pointing his finger back and forth between him and an unspecified space in front of him. "Pursuing further studies about this planet's culture and so on. Interesting stuff. Interesting... people and language and so on. Well, see you."

"Got it," said Veronica. She stood up, finished her food with relish, and went looking for Arcade.

-=(O)=-

Arcade was talking to the village elder, a middle-aged man named Ganzorig descended from the original slaves transplanted to this planet by a Goa'uld who they knew as Tengri. They were several miles away from the village, standing among the ruins of a building that the natives didn't build. Daniel thought that the planet had been host to some sort of alien race before it was settled by the transplanted humans. As far as he knew, the language inscribed on the ruins didn't seem to be based on any Earth language.

He was telling him about their history when he heard a sound in the sky that reminded him that something bad was about to happen. He looked up and saw a black, crescent-shaped object dart through the clouds and disappear into the horizon.

"Death gliders," he said, looking to the elder.

Ganzorig grimaced and nodded. "Yes. They will bring lightning if we don't give Tengri what he needs. I must return to the village and participate in the ceremonies. It is our normal custom to use outsiders for the ceremonies, but after what you have done for us, we have made the choice not to choose you and your team as offerings."

Arcade gave him an uncomfortable look and gave him a nod of false appreciation. "That's, uh… kind, I guess, of you. What exactly do you do in these ceremonies?"

Ganzorig looked at the sky and then back at Arcade. He pointed. "There are two parts of the ceremony. First, we offer our most capable warriors, untouched virgins, and others worthy of serving Tengri above. Second, we sacrifice those who do is dishonour and bring shame upon our people, as well as outsiders. If you wish, you may be brought up along with the others in the ceremony as you have proven your worth to us even though we met in rough circumstances."

"I think I'll pass on that offer," replied Arcade, again with false gratitude, "but I appreciate your kindness in offering the, uh… privilege."

The elder smiled at him. "You are most welcome among us. I'm sure Tengri will want to meet you personally, the saviours of his people. He will no doubt give you only the greatest praise and-"

"I got the picture, thanks," said Arcade, interrupting him. "At any rate, it's likely we won't be sticking around to meet him soon. It's a shame, but duty calls."

The elder frowned and nodded sadly. "Very well. We hope you visit again soon."

"We'll try and stay in touch."

With that, the elder turned around and left. Arcade sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wondered why he wasn't told about this before, but he kept the thought silent. He was midway through the forest path to the village when he met Veronica sauntering through on the way to the ruin.

She perked up and waved at him, walking over. She didn't have her trademark hood on, which surprised Arcade.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Not a lot of things," he said amicably, before adopting a more serious tone. "We have a slight problem."

Veronica frowned. "What kind of problem?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"A Goa'uld problem," said Arcade. "You didn't see the death gliders?"

"No," said Veronica, shaking her head. "But apparently you did. Seriously, though. Are you sure you're not hallucinating? Because, y'know, if you're _not_, then that means we're going to have some very big problems. I mean like 'worse than Vault 3' big."

"I'm afraid not, Veronica," he replied. "Where are Cass and Daniel?"

"Back at the village. We have to get back there and warn them."

A look of realization came across both their faces. They nodded at each other as they ran back to the village. When they got there, they saw that the villagers had already started gathering at the central plaza being forced in by several jaffa. The shadow of a Goa'uld mothership stood above the village, covering the afternoon sun. Veronica and Arcade took cover behind a haystack as they saw two of the jaffa walk into the tavern.

"Oh, crap," said Veronica. "We better get in there and take those two out before they find out about-"

Arcade put a hand over her mouth, ordering her to be silent. He pointed at the tavern door again. They heard sounds of brief conflict, followed by two zaps that sounded like a bastard hybrid of a laser pistol firing and an electric shock. A few seconds later, two more jaffa ran in to help their buddies. The four of them came out carrying Cass and Daniel. They both looked like they'd been knocked out.

Veronica pushed Arcade's hand away from her face and peeked over the haystack, frowning. "Oh, no no no," she said. "We have to get them. We have to these guys out and-"

"There's too many of them, Veronica," interjected Arcade. "We can't take them all at once with just a plasma rifle and whatever glove you have on right now." Just as he said that, another patrol of jaffa came through escorting a group of the locals on the way to the central plaza. They were all wearing red robes of some sort. Arcade assumed that this was part of their ceremony, and from the looks of it this was the "worthy" batch of sacrifices.

"I get what you mean," said Veronica, "but if we don't act now, they'll-"

"I know, I know," conceded Arcade. "But we have to think about this." He stood up, sighing. "We have to hide for a while. The ship's gonna stay here for a while, at least until the ceremony is over. That should buy enough time for us to figure something out."

Veronica grunted as she took out her zap glove from her box and turned it on. "Right," she muttered. "When this is all over, and if I die, I need you to do something."

"It's a bit premature to be drafting a last will and testament, but if you say so," said Arcade, who was opened the door to one of the apparently empty village houses and led her in. "What?"

"Tell everyone…" she said, "that Cass is kind of a dick."

-=(O)=-

Cass woke up to the sound of an old man trying to wake her up. She had one hell of a hangover, and her vision was blurry. From what she could tell, she was in a room of some sort. The wall was kind of a strange off-brownish hue. There was a man, he looked like he was wearing a hood, snapping his fingers or something at her.

"Hey," said the voice of Daniel Jackson. He was shaking her.

"Syrrrrnge," muttered Cass, slurring heavily. "Pocket."

Daniel raised his eyebrow and nodded. He carefully put a hand in her pocket, taking out a syringe of clear blue liquid. "Syringe?" he asked. "This what you're talking about? This syringe?"

Cass nodded groggily. She tried to point at her arm, but she could barely control herself. The arm fell flat at the side of the plain bench she was lying on. Daniel nodded and rolled up the sleeve on her coat. He carefully injected the syringe and stepped back. Cass barely felt the prick.

"I'm guessing this is some sort of new substance?" he asked, inspecting the syringe. "Made after I left, I know. Still, I would've loved one of these. You know-"

"Shut the fuck up," muttered Cass. Her voice was less slurry than it was before.

Daniel gave her a look. He nodded hesitantly. "Okay, shutting up now."

After a few minutes, Cass had regained most of her faculties and sat up. She looked at Daniel with the kind of eagerness that one had when they needed some answers. They'd both been silent for quite a while now.

"So," she finally said. "Where are we?"

"Uh, we're prisoners, I think," said Daniel matter-of-factly, pointing to a depression in the wall. It looked like it was the right place to place a door. "Specifically, prisoners of the Goa'uld. We were zapped by one of their stun-gun things back in the tavern."

Cass squinted and just nodded. Her guns were gone, and so were most of her knives. She looked around, biting her lip as she assessed the situation. "Well that's fucking great," she said sarcastically. "You've been one before, huh?"

"It was thirty to sixty years ago, but technically yes," he said.

"Thirty to sixty?" asked Cass, raising an eyebrow.

"We didn't have calendars on Abydos, and it was an alien planet so I can't really extrapolate from the local measurements of time except in the short-term," said Daniel. "It had twenty-four hour days, but I didn't really keep an exact tally on that so I don't really-"

Cass raised her hand. "Just… Look, you're here right now. That means that you must have gotten out before. How did you do it?"

"I didn't," said Daniel. "Well, technically. The other members of the expedition blew up the door with remote explosives and we ran back to the base of the pyramid. They had a last stand where they all died in a massive and literal blaze of glory, but before that they told me to run. So, I did and I hid. They thought I was dead; I kept my head down and so on for I don't know how many years. Didn't I tell this story before?"

Cass shook her head. "Nope. Well, at least not to me."

Daniel looked at her. "Oh. Right. You weren't there… On Abydos, I mean."

They sat in awkward silence again. Daniel cleared his throat.

"Well, in all likelihood we're going to be stuck here for a while," he declared. "We'll probably be brought before the local Goa'uld. He'll have a speech about how he's a god and how we're being defiant and so on. At least, that's what Ra did. I guess he was going to interrogate us, but there was that pesky little event of us being dead or disintegrated, or at least so he thought."

"Sounds like quite the story, then," she commented. "Can't imagine living for thirty to sixty years in the desert hiding from some alien overlord with a stick bigger than Big Dick Johnson's dick up his ass."

"It wasn't so bad," said Daniel, deciding not to inquire about the metaphor. "I had a wife, the Abydonians viewed me as their friends, and so on."

Cass looked at him, tilting her head. "You were married, huh?"

Daniel nodded. "Ah, yeah. There's a funny story about that, actually. See, when Kawalsky and his men were first brought to the village, they thought we were sent by Ra. They gave me Sha're as a 'gift'. At first it was a weird situation for both of us but I guess we just kind of fell for each other. Ra, or rather one of his jaffa killed her during one of his visits to Abydos. I still miss her sometimes, but life goes on."

"Uh huh," replied Cass. "I'm not much of a romantic myself, and I'm pretty bad when it comes to long-term relationships. I mean, I've taken my fill when it comes to guys and even a girl once when I was _really _drunk, but nothing serious. It's pretty much just fuck-and-go, no strings attached."

"Ah," said Daniel, nodding in understanding. "Sounds like you're living life to the fullest."

"It's the Wasteland, grandpa," she said. "Life's pretty short. You take what you get."

"Right…" replied Daniel, pausing. He cleared his throat again. "You know, we've never really _talked_ to each other before. I just noticed that. I mean, we go together on missions and all as a team but this is the first time that it was just us."

Cass looked at him and raised her finger, making a gesture of agreement. "Well, we know Arcade and Veronica. I felt the same way with them back when we were first introduced to each other by Six. It wasn't until that incident at Vault 3 when we finally decided that we should at least try to be friends."

"You keep talking about that," said Daniel pointedly. "Vault 3. What exactly happened there?"

"Veronica didn't tell you yet?" asked Cass.

Daniel shook his head. "No. Well, I didn't really bother to ask before."

Cass smiled at him. "Well, better sit tight because this is going to be a fun story." She relaxed her posture, clearing her throat. "Okay, so…"

The door opened up from the depression in the wall. It sounded like the hybrid of a suction cup and a steam hiss. There were three of Tengri's jaffa standing in front of it. The one at the center of the group seemed to be rather important, given the fact that he was barking an order to the other two as he pointed at the room between Cass and Daniel. Daniel noticed the stamp on his forehead, much like Teal'c had. Only this time it wasn't a serpent, but rather something that looked a lot like a shortened pitchfork.

"Bring them," he commanded.

Cass reflexively put her hand over her hip to draw her shotgun, but then she remembered that she was disarmed. Daniel just raised his hands above his head as a non-threatening gesture.

"Fuck," she cursed, raising one of her knives as the jaffa came over to her. She tried to put up a fight, but she was zapped with one of those electric-laser pistols and was knocked unconscious.

Daniel looked at Cass and then at the jaffa, frowning. He pointed at her and gave them a look of concern. "She's just unconscious, right?"

-=(O)=-

They had a plan. Or, more accurately, Arcade had a plan. Veronica wasn't really good at this sort of thing, so she deferred to Arcade who seemed to be a bit more familiar with tactical matters. Neither of them really had any experience with any _real _command, but the circumstances demanded that they take up this responsibility. They'd both had to mount rescue missions against overwhelming odds before, but during both times they had help from Six, the Brotherhood, or another group who happened to be on their side. There was also the fact that pretty much all of those allies had access to heavy-duty hardware, whether it be almost-superhuman abilities, powerful weapons, or an army of robots. This time, they only had the help of a bunch of villagers who were willing to go against everything they believed in and whose most powerful strategy was mobbing people with torches and pitchforks.

"See, this is why I need power armour," complained Veronica, pointing at a spot in the map on the table marked with a large red X. The map was crude and made up on the spot from what local knowledge and experience they could muster, but it would have to do. "We can just waltz in and eliminate these guys before they even knew what hit 'em."

"We'll just have to do without it, Veronica," said Arcade. "And we can't risk calling for help. Not yet, at least. We don't know what their condition is. For all we know, bringing in more attention could backfire, very badly. Remember what happened to…"

"Boone, yeah," finished Veronica, frowning. That incident hadn't been one of their proudest moments, and it had been one of the many cumulative events that eventually sent Six through the edge. "Not exactly our best idea, in hindsight."

"Well, let's use that hindsight so it doesn't happen again," replied Arcade. "We have to do this very carefully and we have to be stealthy."

Veronica shrugged. "Have any Stealth Boys lying around?"

Arcade shook his head. "Afraid not."

"Well, that's a bummer," muttered Veronica. With that, they started brainstorming ideas on how to get Cass and Daniel out. Although the ceremony itself wasn't due to start until a few hours later, they had a narrow window of opportunity to do what they needed to do. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and outmatched. They didn't have a raider's chance in an Enclave base. Despite all that, she found herself rather excited by the prospect of the assault even though it was probably going to fail. Miserably.

They both had to admit it, though. They had a certain habitual knack for beating million-to-one odds. Especially if the initial plot failed and they had to improvise on the spot.

It seemed to Veronica that they thought about hundreds, maybe thousands of possibilities. She didn't keep track, and she wasn't really sure what happened in the hours that passed when they planned, but by the end of it they'd managed to dredge up something that at least approached some semblance of tactical sense. The plan had everything that Veronica wanted from an adventure – ballsiness, careful coordination, and most of all, the opportunity to punch things.

With barely two hours to spare, she and Arcade put their plan into action. They hid behind a haystack again as they waited for a jaffa patrol to pass by. Arcade whistled as he made a distraction, leading the soldiers' way into a back alley on a merry chase that ended with Veronica punching two of them in the back of the head with her zap glove in rapid succession. The third one barely even had time to react before Arcade persuaded him to drop his weapon with the help of an ominously-lit Q-35 Matter Modulator.

"Hi," said Veronica as the jaffa looked at both of them, rather confused. "We're going to need you to do something for us. Don't take this the wrong way, buuut I'm going to need you to take off your clothes."

-=(O)=-

Cass and Daniel were forced to kneel in front of a domineering overlord with delusions of grandeur. It wasn't the first time. Neither of them had been new to this. Daniel had this experience with Ra, and Cass with the Powder Gangers of Vault 19. These experiences seemed to have a habit of pretty much being uniform. Tengri's jaffa had their weapons pointed at the two, an implicit threat that if they tried to do anything funny, they'd be injected with a healthy dose of staff weapon plasma bolt.

Tengri's appearance reminded Cass of the Khans, and it was no wonder: they both took their inspiration from the great Steppe Hordes that once ruled from China to Eastern Europe. Daniel knew that, but Cass didn't. It was one of his afterthoughts to tell her about that when this was all over, but something told him she won't be all that accepting of the idea.

Some of the Goa'uld's servants had laid out the technological items that the jaffa had found when they were captured. Daniel knew the drill. "Wait, let me guess," he said, putting up his manacled hands and raising his pointer finger. "You want to know where we got our technology, don't you?"

A jaffa bashed him in the belly with his staff weapon. "_Silence!_" he ordered.

Tengri tilted his head and nodded at him, giving off a rather smug smile. Cass hated that smile.

"You are most perceptive, outsider," he said, in a deep basso voice. "Where do you come from?"

"Come now, is that any way to talk to your elders?" he quipped. He was bashed again. He looked at the jaffa who bashed him – Tengri's first prime, annoyingly. "Would you _stop _that?"

"Your insolence is most amusing, old man," he said. "But you are most uncooperative." He turned to Cass as he ran a hand through his thin beard. "And what of you, woman? I suppose you are more willing to serve your god than your father is."

Daniel and Cass looked at each other because of that remark. Cass looked back at Tengri, giving him a look like he just ate Brahmin shit.

"What the fuck?" she asked. "We don't even look alike. And in any case, you're not going to get jack shit from me."

"Am I _that _old?" inquired Daniel.

Cass continued. "Instead, I'm offering you a counter proposal. Why don't you take my shotgun," she pointed. "And shove it, as high as you can, up your own ass, then pull the trigger? I'm sure the result will look a whole lot better than your face does right about now."

Tengri looked between the both of them. He gave a grunt of anger and waved them away. "Very well. If you wish to remain difficult, then we will follow your wishes. You were given the gift of mercy, and you recklessly abandoned it. Take them away."

Tengri's First Prime nodded as he bashed Daniel again out of spite. Cass was zapped again.

Daniel rubbed his head as he was dragged away. He looked at Cass and sighed. "Seriously?" he asked again. From what he could tell, these guys were real assholes.

-=(O)=-

Arcade felt a little stuffy in his jaffa suit. Although the armour seemed to be protective, he had his doubts on whether or not it would be able to stand up to a staff weapon or even a Glock 86 plasma pistol. He was able to penetrate most jaffa armour with his Q-35, and like it the jaffa staff weapon was basically just a plasma rifle. Sure they had their differences, mostly in their delivery methods, main objectives, and projectile colours, but they were plasma weapons all the same.

He was pretending to lead Veronica as one of the sacrifices. She had ditched her coat and replaced it with the red robes that they'd also stolen. They managed to get to the central plaza without anyone so much as turning a head in suspicion. The ceremony itself was a bit less extravagant than what Arcade was led to believe, but he figured that thousands of years of tradition can do that to an event.

"When am I gonna get to punch stuff?" whispered Veronica as they waited for the ring platform to begin ferrying the natives over to the ship. "I swear, this is torture. Well, not exactly since these robes are pretty damn cool but yeah, torture."

"Looks like they're almost ready," replied Arcade. "Just a few more minutes…"

The first batch of sacrifices was beamed over to the mothership. Arcade and Veronica waited for their turn before they were beamed up along with another group. They followed the crowd for a while before they silently broke off and made their way into what looked like an empty room.

Arcade breathed a sigh of relief as they went into a section of the mothership that didn't seem to be occupied. There were old chests all around them, likely containing various things that the mothership needed in case of emergency. This was the kind of room that Six would have ransacked to the point where everything became empty.

"All right," he said. "Now that we're in, we should look for the holding cells."

"If I remember those schematics correctly," said Veronica, pulling out her zap glove from under her robe and putting it on, "they should be somewhere near the lower levels of the ship. We should split up once we get there. Keep in contact, of course."

"Obviously," said Arcade. He kept his staff weapon near him as he adopted a stance that indicated that he was about to get busy. "Let's go."

Veronica noticed that the structure of the ship was similar enough to Ra's mothership that it would have most of the same attributes, except for a few unique aspects here and there. It wasn't long before she made her way to where the holding cells were supposed to be. All of them were sealed shut even though most of the jaffa were gone, but there were still a few that remained. She kept a low profile and avoided detection, which was good enough for them. She assumed that they assumed that she was just one of the servants going about their business.

_Great_, she thought. _I found it. Now to figure out how to open it._

She looked at what seemed to be the control panel for a depression in the wall which she assumed to be the door. There were a lot of them on both sides of the wall, and Veronica could tell that she was going to have a hell of a time combing through all of them. She figured out how the control panel worked pretty quickly and managed to open up the cell. It opened up to reveal a couple of unconscious natives. Sacrifices from the second batch, she knew.

"Okay," she said. "It looks like none of you are either Cass or Daniel… Moving on."

This went on for two more doors. Right in the middle of lockpicking the third, she heard a sound of men marching. She looked behind her and saw four of them carrying exactly who she was looking for. Both of them looked like they'd been through hell and were both unconscious. She went back to her stealth mode, keeping her head down as they walked past. She took out her hand radio and started trailing the jaffa. "Found 'em," she relayed as silently as she could. "My level. Bad guys leading them along. They look like they've been through some shit. Veronica out."

"Got it," said Arcade's voice.

Veronica followed them to another part of the level where it felt like the corridor was somewhat larger than it was. After the jaffa had led Cass and Daniel into one of the rooms, she waited a few minutes and heard what were definitely curses and screams of agony. She couldn't stand the sound of it and muttered angrily to herself as she activated her zap glove. _Bzzt._

"Doc?" said Veronica, talking into the radio.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'm about to make some noise."

-=(O)=-

Arcade heard an explosion below him which shook his level while he was on his way to the elevators. The jaffa who were still guarding the sacrifices around him stood there startled for a while until a second explosion rocked the ship. They started moving as the nearby First Prime ordered them to rush to the lower levels to take care of the problem. Sensing an opportunity, Arcade followed them until there were five of them crammed into one elevator.

When the doors closed, he activated the staff weapon he had with him and fired at the lights, shrouding them in darkness as he took out the Ripper he'd managed to conceal under his armour. He revved up its motors and immediately slashed in a circle around him. The sound it cutting through flesh and bone was all too familiar to him.

When the doors opened, only one of the jaffa remained. He stood there in shock, trying to process what just happened. He looked at Arcade like he was some sort of ghost and ran out of the elevator in a hurry, almost bumping into the good doctor's blood-splattered body.

"So much for pacifism," he said as he rushed over to where he thought the explosions came from. He took out his radio and started talking. "Veronica, what the hell are you doing?!"

There wasn't any response. Arcade took this as a sign that meant that he should hurry. He knew he was following the right path when he stumbled upon the corpses of Tengri's First Prime and his entourage, or so he assumed. He couldn't tell, especially since their heads were mutilated beyond all recognition. A squad of jaffa ran past him. He took cover behind a corridor and followed their direction by gaze. When they almost rounded one of the corridors, they were taken out simultaneously by a point-blank shotgun blast from a figure clad in a set of modified Desert Ranger armour.

"_Hey!_" he shouted, waving at Cass's approximate location. "It's me, Arcade! I'm over here!"

Cass peeked from behind her corner. She looked like she had a vendetta that she needed to pursue. He knew better than to get in the way of that. She walked over to him as she reloaded her shotgun. "The others are in the central control room," she said, ejecting her spent shells. "They're planning to blow this thing up. Not my kind of thing."

"I can see that," said Arcade. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Hunting shitheads," she declared, giving him a grim smile. "Most of them are heading over to stop Veronica and the old man, which leaves the way free for me to fuck up Overlord Khan. Stay out of my way and you'll be fine."

"Right… I'll uh, keep that in mind."

With that, Cass walked on and casually disembowelled a stray jaffa with her shotgun. Arcade was appalled by the sheer _easiness _of how she did it, but he kept that thought silent and soldiered on. This was something they'd all done before, and he couldn't really object to it any more than Cass could, especially after what he did in that elevator.

-=(O)=-

"That door's not going to hold them for long," observed Daniel as he pointed at the blast doors that protected the control room. They were relentless in their energy weapon attacks, and it was only a matter of minutes before they were breached. "We better hurry with this."

"Just give me a few more minutes!" urged Veronica, who was continuing to tinker with the control panels manually. She had no understanding of the Goa'uld language save for a few snippets here and there, so she had to rely on her technical expertise to do what she needed to. Even with all her talent, though, figuring out an alien system from scratch took some time.

They heard a sound that sounded a lot harder than an energy weapon blast. Daniel grimaced. "Those sound like battering rams," he said.

"Thirty seconds!" shouted Veronica. She was close. "Hold them off!"

"I can't exactly hold them off if I don't have any weapons with me," said Daniel. "Hell, what do you expect me to do, punch them out?"

"Actually, that's a good idea," said Veronica, who took out her glove box and put it on the table next to him. "Take one."

Daniel blinked a few times and stared at her, surprised. "I'm sorry, _what?_"

"Just put one on and then punch people with it," replied Veronica. "It's simple."

Daniel was still hesitant. He looked at the gloves and then back at the door. It was yea-close to being forced open. He shrugged and grunted, taking out two and getting his bearings with them. Oddly enough, they were less heavy than he expected. "Uh," he said. "You know they're carrying energy weapons, right?"

"I know," said Veronica. "The key is to keep yourself under their minimum weapons range. Ten seconds."

"You said thirty forty seconds ago!"

"This takes time, okay? Don't rush me."

"You know it would go faster if you'd stop talking, right?"

"Well, if you want me to stop talking then _maybe _you should stop asking me things."

She had a point. Daniel simply nodded and muttered to himself as he raised his hands. He wasn't exactly an expert in unarmed combat, but at least he _did _know how to punch things. He walked over at a safe range from the door as it was battered open with a loud crashing sound. He took out his right glove and closed his eyes, punching the air blindly in front of him.

By sheer luck, he'd managed to hit one who was about to run inside. He heard something akin to a gunshot as Pushy did what it was named for. The jaffa was sent back with enough force to send the others behind him crashing into the wall. Daniel blinked as he watched his handiwork. He looked at Veronica as he took cover behind the wall near the door. Energy bolts were already whizzing past him.

"Does it always do that?" he asked, turning to Veronica. It looked like she was making the final calibrations as she took cover behind the control panel.

"Oh, you got Pushy," she saw. "That's nice. Uh, give me a few more seconds."

"How many seconds is this going to take?" asked Daniel, as he punched another jaffa who breached the doorline with the other glove. This time he heard screams and felt like the air had just risen a few degrees near him. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted to the sight of a burned man.

"Aaaaand…" said Veronica, making the final adjustments really final. "Done."

The ambient "breach" alarm had suddenly changed into something more ominous. The voice of what sounded like a Goa'uld began a countdown sequence, and the jaffa stopped firing. They started falling back in order to evacuate. When they opened the elevator, they were greeted with the sight of Arcade carrying a plasma grenade.

"Whoops," he said, pulling the pin as he tossed it outside the elevator. He pushed the close button immediately once the grenade was out. "Wrong floor." He covered his ears.

-=(O)=-

When they rendezvoused in front of the ring transport room as the last of the servants were beamed back down onto the planet, there were only three of them. Veronica and Daniel had come straight from the control room sailing on a river of blood, and Arcade encountered little resistance. From what Daniel could discern, apparently there were only a few minutes left on the countdown timer.

"Where's Cass?" asked Arcade as he looked around. "She said she'd be here after she was finished with business."

"We only have a few minutes left on the countdown timer," said Veronica. "If we don't go _now, _we're going to end up as debris. Whatever business she's wrapping up, she better finish it soon."

Arcade agreed. "That's what I said. She said she was hunting shitheads."

"Typical," she muttered. "Give her a few more minutes."

Daniel looked around and frowned. "Uh, are you sure about that?"

"Yeah," said Veronica. "Just give her some more time."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm getting kind of old and I can't really afford _that _much time. I hope you won't mind if I go down first."

They both nodded at him. "We'll be right behind you," said Arcade.

When Daniel saw them beam back down on the planet, Cass was still missing. They heard an earth-shaking sound but it wasn't the ship exploding. They looked up and saw it rising up into the air slowly before it accelerated and suddenly disappeared into a swirling blue vortex of some sort that materialized above the ship itself.

SG-1 was speechless. Veronica was the first to react.

"Oh shit."

-=(O)=-

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

Ibsen called in McNamara and his council into the control room to show them a peculiar transmission. They were all sceptical of what he had to show, but nonetheless it had to be important enough to be monitored on such a sparsely-used frequency.

It was a voice transmission, repeated three times on the same frequency, and went as follows:

"_This is Colonel Harold Maybourne of the United States Air Force. If any government or military agency capable of sending help is out there… Scratch that, hell if you even still exist, we need your help and we need it now. We're surrounded by enemies of freedom and we have important information that might be of use to you. The world may be all shot to hell and we've experienced nothing but savage brutality so far, but if there's civilization out there, then please. We need your help. And you're going to want ours."_

When the transmission was repeated to them, the council didn't quite know how to react.

"This is a top-secret government frequency that hasn't been used in ages," said Ibsen. "It's coming from deep in Legion territory – specifically Arizona. It's entirely possible that this could be related to the incident in Cheyenne Mountain."

"We can't be sure of that," replied Rothchild. "For all we know, it could be Enclave remnants attempting to lure us into a trap."

"If so," added McNamara. "Then we have to investigate this anyway. If the Enclave is out there, then that means-"

"I'm well aware of the implications, McNamara. However, it's not worth the risk. Trust me on that."

"Quell your suspicions, gentlemen," said the voice of Mr. House, who had once again made another abrupt appearance. "If it's any good, I can tell you that this transmission is genuine. I'd like you to open your minds for just a moment as I tell you exactly what you need to know."


	12. The Resistance

**THE RESISTANCE**

There was talk among the slaves that there was a group that fought for their freedom. There were a lot of things that were said about them, and a lot of the details depended on who you asked. There was one common element that connected all of those stories together, though: they were ghosts of the Old World. Remnants of a time long past, come to seek vengeance for the crimes done by the Legion against all those that they'd forced under their brutal rule.

Of course, all myths are descended from the truth. There _was _a resistance out there that sought to undermine the fractured Legion's rule. They _did _fight for freedom. They _were _ghosts, but not the kind that most people would expect.

The civil war had been rough for everyone. Territories that had been completely safe were now subject to complete anarchy and infighting after Caesar failed to take Vegas. New warlords rose and fell every day, and alliances forged and broken in the span of hours. Caesar himself seemed to be becoming increasingly withdrawn and reclusive as the war dragged on. Some had speculated that he was growing weaker, but such talk was treason.

This disorder was the perfect breeding ground for what was known in many circles as the Resistance. It was said that a ghost had come in the middle of the night to Flagstaff to liberate many of the reclusive Caesar's slaves, managing to deactivate the collars that would have otherwise killed them if they attempted to flee. In the dead of night, many slaves had managed to slip out of the city without so much as a single guard noticing. After they had regained their freedom, they called up other ghosts who had been captured by the Legion and began a campaign of subterfuge and guerrilla warfare that threatened to extend the already overburdened empire's resources to its breaking point.

The Legion wasn't the only enemy the Resistance needed to challenge, though. Brutal as it was, it was the Legion that kept the peace that Caesar had fought so hard to achieve. The civil war presented an opportunity for those who would otherwise have been punished by Caesar's laws, and as a result raiders and unruly outlaws were crawling out of the woodwork from the shattered tribes that had once lived under the rule of The Bull.

Faced with these overwhelming odds, Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay paced back and forth in Colonel Maybourne's command tent as he ranted about the situation to Captain Samantha Carter. As far as they knew, they and the others who were frozen in the facility were the only remnants of the Pre-War United States. Despite McKay's warnings, Maybourne had insisted on broadcasting that damn signal which would probably reveal their location to a whole bunch of nasty people that he did not want to have the pleasure of meeting.

"It's not like we have anywhere else to go, McKay," said Carter, who had put her hands on one of the map tables. "I mean, we've been in the dark ever since we got out of Caesar's camp. What intelligence we _do _have about what's going on out there either come from unsubstantiated rumours or wild speculation."

McKay massaged his forehead in annoyance. "Well, we won't know that until we actually go out there, won't we? We have to send people out to Vegas, to California, to wherever the hell we hear that there _may _be _actual_ civilization. You know, anywhere that's not _here_."

"We're already asking for help, McKay," replied Carter. She gave him a sigh. "We're trying to establish any connection we can to anyone out there. I know this situation is tense, but you have to remember that…"

"We're living in a desolate post-apocalyptic wasteland," completed McKay. "And, of course, the situation right now looks very bleak. We've lost contact with Weir and the others. We're surrounded by slavers who like to play dress-up and psychopathic raiders on all sides, and then there's the little matter of the fact that we don't even have enough guns to arm everybody. Nor do we have enough people to train the other guys we freed. This little cult of ours isn't really helping when most of them are illiterate and useless when it comes to fighting back. That, and I'm pretty sure that a lot of us popsicles are _probably _mentally imbalanced from all those years of being, well, _popsicles._"

"Well, we can't just sit here and let all this happen," objected Carter. "If we're really the only sensible ones left out here, don't you think it's our duty to help these people?"

McKay didn't know what to say to that. He paused for a few moments and stared aimlessly in front of him before he shook his head. "You know what? I need to go get some air." He sighed, muttering to himself as he walked out of the tent. Carter listened to him grumble for a while. "Can't find any decent food out here. If there's one good thing I got from all this, it's that Tunney's dead…"

When he was gone, Carter searched for the communications tent where they'd manage to set up an impromptu headquarters that allowed them to talk to the other Pre-War 'popsicles' that managed to escape from Legion forces. The equipment they had was formed mostly out of scavenged equipment from whatever source they could find, but it served well enough to at least allow them to access most radio frequencies. They had been monitoring as many as they could, but there were only so many who even _knew _how to operate the equipment. Not to mention the fact that their receivers could only work to such a long range. If they wanted to hear anything substantial, they would have to have access to actual transmission equipment.

She thought it was funny that their equipment had an easier time sending out messages at long ranges as opposed to receiving them. It was one or the other with their equipment, though. They needed actual radar and radio equipment, not just jury-rigged pieces of crap that would break at a moment's notice. She'd only managed to send out one long-range transmission so far, with the help of McKay. It would be a while before they could send out another.

They were taking a huge gamble with that message, she knew. The Legion had their equipment destroyed with them when they suffered some sort of defeat out in the West, but the slaves only knew so much and Caesar himself was rather unwilling to share that information. If they could just break through the lines and go past the river, they'd have a chance to find out for themselves. There would be a slim chance of surviving if they attempted that, though. They needed to marshal their strength first.

Harry Maybourne had just the plan for that. His appearance signalled that he had taken the environment of the nuclear wasteland to heart and he adapted quickly. It was said that he managed to kill over a dozen legionnaires before he managed to escape the camp of one of Caesar's strongest remaining generals, and after that he went on to become a name feared in the ranks of both the Legion and its defectors alike.

He believed in America, and many of his followers believed he could bring it back. He had become a symbol of the Resistance, fighting for many who believed in their freedom and who wanted a return to the Old World's prosperity. He wasn't that idealistic, though. He knew what he was up against and he knew that it was all an act. Despite all that, it was an act that he intended to follow. Even before the war, he believed that this is a world where you either kill or be killed, and he had never seen it any other way. In another world, maybe that would have been different. This wasn't that world.

-=(O)=-

Ever since Cass's disappearance and the futile search for the next few weeks afterwards to find her, she stopped thinking about her so she could preserve her sanity. She stopped thinking about a lot of things just so she could keep sleep at night. Veronica tortured herself inside as she believed it was her fault her friend was gone, but she kept those feelings to herself. She'd kept herself occupied by going on as many missions as she could and trying to punch as much ass as her fist would allow, but it just wasn't the same. Somehow, the thoughts kept crawling back and it just wouldn't stop.

She wasn't thinking about Cass now, though, at least. She had a mission to do. They had it on good intelligence that a mothership belonging to a minor System Lord named Ba'al had crashed on this planet, and it was mostly intact. The Brotherhood saw this as a chance to recover what technology they could since House had sealed off Ra's ship to them so they could learn more about their enemy. The Eyebot probe had revealed a complication to that problem, however: The jaffa loyal to Ba'al had dug themselves in around the mothership as it was presumably in the process of being repaired, and as a result the council was hesitant to authorize any sort of salvage team.

Veronica seized the chance to go on another mission and suggested that SG-1 should to a surgical insertion to assess the situation. Despite Arcade and Daniel's protests, McNamara approved her suggestion and made it official. As a matter of standard protocol, he still disallowed the use of power armour for what SG-1 was about to do. Veronica would have challenged that decision, but the thought didn't cross her mind after she'd been rejected for the umpteenth time.

On her request, McNamara and Ramos had finally allowed Teal'c to transfer from SG-3 to SG-1. Their leader, Leibowitz, raised some protests, but in the end he just accepted the decision without much fuss. He had been instrumental in gathering intelligence for their past few missions, and his experience came in handy when it came to operating any Goa'uld equipment that they managed to find.

This was the first time that Veronica and Arcade had encountered a tropical environment. Even though they were used to the heat of the Wasteland, they didn't expect the kind of humidity that would accompany the jungle. Daniel and Teal'c had expected this once they got the mission brief and dressed accordingly. The other two didn't even know what the memo was and brought their regular heavy-duty gear.

Veronica immediately started her complaining process the moment they stepped through the gate's puddle. "Aw crapsticks," she muttered. "I did _not _sign up for this."

Daniel and Teal'c looked at them and shook their heads disapprovingly. After a few seconds of that, Teal'c tilted his head in the way that was meant to draw attention to the oddity of the situation, and Daniel just gave them one of his "oh well" looks.

"You have indeed signed up for this mission, Veronica Santangelo," said Teal'c. "Otherwise you would not be present here."

"I was speaking figuratively," she replied.

Teal'c just nodded. Daniel explained it to him well enough to just go with it.

"Yeah, well," said Daniel. "We're here now. We won't be allowed to head back through the gate until we've finished what we set out to do, so suck it up you damn youngsters."

Arcade took off his doctor's coat and put it in his bag. "Right," he said, consulting his compass and handheld map device. It was clear that he was trying to keep his regular composure, but cracks were showing in his attitude. He was sweating profusely and trying his best not to just start wiping it on everything. "We should be heading that way." He pointed to one of the paths that seemed to lead out of the Stargate clearing.

"We're off to meet the wizard," said Veronica, following his trail.

Daniel raised his hand before Teal'c could respond. "It's another cultural reference."

Teal'c raised his eyebrow. "Indeed," he replied.

They were several miles into the jungle when they figured something out. They were totally lost.

"That's impossible," commented Arcade. "It should be here. The Eyebot probe's coordinates were precise with that."

"Gee whiz, doc," said Veronica incredulously, taking off her coat to reveal a vest of light body armour over a plain black shirt. "Maybe it's wrong?"

Arcade glared at her. "If it is, then we're in big trouble."

"What else is new?" muttered Veronica. "I mean, other than the fact that we're totally lost in an alien planet and _probably _surrounded by bad guys on all sides. Worst of all, though, is that it's so damn _moist._"

"I thought you liked that kind of thing," muttered Arcade. Veronica gave him a murderous look.

"Look who's talking," she replied. "In any case, what are we going to do? I mean, clearly we can't just wander around waiting for a, uh… a mothership to appear out of thin air. That would be pretty useful though." She waited for just that to happen, and was disappointed. She shrugged "Well, that drives us away from _that _course of action."

Arcade shook his map-device and sighed. The screen had gone haywire and was displaying a message that simply read _ERROR – NO DATA_ in monochrome green text. "Well, at this point it looks like we don't really have any other choice."

Veronica just sighed and absentmindedly started plucking the leaves out of some plant near her. "Your compass still works, right? Why don't we follow the_-"_

The sound of Ma'Tok energy blasts were heard in the distance, along with the weapon that Veronica and SG-1 had originally encountered back on Tengri's world. Teal'c had called them _zat'nik'tels_, but Veronica found that a bit bothersome to pronounced and just decided to nickname them "zatties". Daniel disagreed with the name and suggested that it should be shortened to "zat". It was easier to pronounce, and so that's what they went with.

Veronica snapped to attention and tilted her head to the direction of the sounds. "You hear that?"

Teal'c followed her gaze and nodded, raising his staff weapon. "Indeed."

"If that sounds like what I think it is," said Arcade, "then it looks like we weren't the first to get here."

"Stealth mode?" suggested Veronica, looking at SG-1 with a smirk. "Stealth mode."

With that, she and Arcade went to the directions of the sound rather casually for people who were about to launch themselves straight into trouble. Teal'c looked at Daniel as he raised an eyebrow, making a silent gesture where he suggested that he was rather unaware of this Tau'ri custom.

Teal'c turned to Daniel. "Your companions are most strange, Daniel Jackson."

"Yeah," replied Daniel. "I chalk it up to youthful vigour, I'd suppose. You get what I mean."

"I do not get what you mean, Daniel Jackson."

"Well, I mean… We're both old, right? Chronologically speaking. I'm… I don't know, somewhere around fifty to seventy. You're over a hundred."

Teal'c understood and simply nodded. "I see."

"In any case," continued Daniel. "They know what they're doing. Let's just, uh, keep our distance…"

-=(O)=-

The wild and constant noise of the radioactive rapids in the canyon below became a comforting sound to Anita O'Neill as she and the rest of SG-3 rappelled carefully down a cliff face not far from the ghoul haven of Camp Searchlight. If she strained her ears, she could hear the faint sounds of Securitrons gunning down the airport's inhabitants left and right as House continued consolidating power in the Mojave. They had to be careful, and it was tough work to avoid being seen by House's goons, even at night. They'd originally planned to cross the Legion-Vegas border by crossing the old I-95 through what had been Palm Gardens to the Legion border fort of Laughlin, but according to what they'd heard from caravans the situation there was… delicate, to say the least.

She knew that the ropes were strong and that their, to her understanding, almost-magical high-tech hooks could hold an absurd amount of weight. They were, barring any extreme unexpected variables, completely safe. It didn't make her feel any better, though, and she felt like she could fall down that deep, dark chasm at any moment. She jumped down again. Paladin Leibowitz's voice cut into her comms system and snapped her out of it.

"Watch out," he said. "Hide."

O'Neill started fumbling with her Stealth Boy and activated it. There was a slight _whoosh_ as the stealth field covered her up. She froze in her spot and looked up. Overhead, a vertibird with several strong spotlights on it flew straight past them, combing the river. When it passed, Leibowitz gave the go-ahead to deactivate the camouflage. The rest of the crossing passed without much fuss, and they soon found themselves on a beach on the other side. She saw the shadows of two abandoned machine gun nests bearing the Legion's banners on the mountains flanking the beach. She found a secluded spot away from her two male companions and took a moment to change.

"Lucky," she muttered to herself as she slid off her radiation suit and laid her waterproof bag down on the beach. There were trees here, she saw, but they were nothing like what she saw in the VR sims and the holofilms, or for that matter those that were near Jacobstown. They had the right shape, the right parts, and so on, but they were… off. They _felt _like trees, but they… weren't. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was probably the radiation that did it, but these days it was hard to make sure.

Once she was done putting on her "disguise" outfit, she made her way over to her companions and smelled the scent of food in the air. They were bent over a portable Nuka-Stove heating up what looked to be portions of lakelurk meat.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, sitting down across from them.

Leibowitz, a dark-skinned bald man whose face had seen more battles than O'Neill would have wanted to experience, laid down map in front of him and fumbled with a flashlight as he pointed towards a couple of locations. He was a seasoned veteran from the Capital Wasteland; his right eye had turned a milky white with an energy weapon scar running across it like an eyepatch branded right on his skin.

"We are to head to the source of the signal," he said. "According to the scribes, it came from somewhere in this area." His finger north of a section of the map labelled "KAIBAB". "It's day's trek from the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff. House's Securitrons are pushing right through the 40 past Laughlin, and it's only a matter of time until they reach the fort of Kingman. We'll have to head through the 93 for a while and pose as a group of travelling merchants. O'Neill, Steakley, are you sure you know how to keep a low profile?"

Steakley rolled his eyes. He was quite young, and, to O'Neill, far too smug, but he had a remarkable knack of spotting weaknesses. He once boasted that he could spot a weak spot in under five seconds, and she found it hard to prove him wrong. The man was excellent at repairing and making armour, and he was even more talented when it came to destroying it. He simply scoffed at Leibowitz's word of caution. "Of course I do. If push comes to shove, I'll…"

"Combat will be a last resort, Steakley," interjected Leibowitz. "We want to head to the signal, not turn this into a… Slaughter trek or something."

"Murder journey?" suggested O'Neill.

"And as for you, O'Neill… I'm sure you're aware of the fates women face in Legion territory. You've dressed as a man before…" O'Neill could have sworn that he snuck a glance at her less-than-ample proportions. "Can you do it again?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied with a smile. She had intended it to be a fake smile, but she found it hard to make those so she just made a genuine one. "Sure. It's fun." She also found it hard to lie.

Leibowitz just nodded. "All right then. We'll tread a few miles and rest for the rest of the night in shifts. We'll have to pack up on supplies and take a Brahmin in Dolan Springs. With the Legion out of town and the House consolidating his power in the north, we won't have to worry about anything big. After that, all bets are off."

-=(O)=-

Ever since the Stargate program was revived by the Brotherhood, it had been nothing but headaches for Senior Knight Lorenzo. Veronica's initial mission had been hard enough on the armoury, and the subsequent assault on Chulak a nightmare for all the paperwork he had to sift through. Although managing everything became a little bit easier once the Capital Wasteland brothers entered the picture, he still had to manage most of the resources flowing in and out of the facility. He wanted to yank Torres out of her bloody desert grave and force her to start working again.

He was, in every sense of the phrase, a beleaguered bureaucrat. Even though it was good for the Brotherhood as a whole, Lorenzo liked it better when they had a static amount of weapons, armour and ammunition that simply needed a few adjustments every now and again back when they were at Hidden Valley. Now there were so many things going on: The regular supply shipments from Cassidy Caravans, the alien artefacts being taken from all over the galaxy on Stargate missions, and most of all the pieces of equipment that were being broken on a frequency that was almost like clockwork.

He knew it was nothing next to the pressure that McNamara had to deal with, though. Nonetheless, he still felt like the exhaustion would never end. By all rights, he should have developed a more efficient system of dealing with the day-to-day logistics but ironically he needed time away from doing what he was already doing for that. He asked McNamara time and time again for additional labour to help him with his task, but the fact remained that they could only do so much with such a dwindling supply of manpower.

In the end, he was just did what he had to do. There was still an inkling of hope within him that his duty would become lighter, but that was a light at the end of a very distant tunnel. The stress was going to catch up with him eventually, and it did. In the middle of the night, a cache of C-4 explosives had abruptly disappeared from the inventory and he had never thought to account for it, thinking it was probably an error on his part.

Despite its CEO's disappearance, Cassidy Caravans didn't even miss a beat as it rose through the NCR's rank of trader organizations. Raul Alfonso Tejada, guided by the experience of living the Pre-War world and two hundred years of life, bleak as it was, ended up being a ruthlessly effective business leader. The cutthroat world of the caravan business had appealed to the nature of the old vaquero, and he relished the chance to apply his skills in a way that he never thought would be possible. Lorenzo was on his way to catalogue one of his personal shipments when he passed through McNamara's office. It had its door open and he took a brief glance to see that he was talking to Rothchild. Uninterested in their conversation, he simply moved on to the ground floor.

As Lorenzo walked past his office, McNamara let out an exasperated sigh as Rothchild gave him another one of his reports from the East. SG-2 had been delayed yet again as the team was given orders to rendezvous with SG-3 in Arizona, which left only SG-1 to actually carry out off-world operations. Lyons felt the need to do the moral thing again and decided to aid whoever sent the transmission, trusting his better judgement. Apparently, the man trusted House's information enough to follow his lead.

According to what House was willing to reveal, there had been a project at Cheyenne Mountain performed by a Pre-War corporation active during the late 1980's until the early 2020's which had been absorbed by Vault-Tec after it went bankrupt due to the rising price of natural resources. The project itself was codenamed "Phoenix" and it was aimed to provide an early prototype for preservation of valuable personnel in case of nuclear war. The project had most of its resources withdrawn after the merger with Vault-Tec and reallocated to the fledgling Vault program. Vault-Tec had appropriated Project Phoenix's studies on cryogenic stasis and had used it accordingly, leaving the original subjects lying dormant in the deepest levels of the facility. The government kept the bare minimum resources required to keep the project running just for the sake of having a second option if the Vault experiments failed, but eventually maintenance became automated and the project itself became lost in the bureaucratic system and simply became an afterthought by the time the War started.

The man… Computer, rather, or whatever he was, further explained that this was the source of the signal acquired months earlier by the Groom Lake facility's long-range receivers, and said that the Legion had raided the facility and enslaved any of the intact inhabitants they'd found. He was unwilling to reveal further information after that and simply reiterated what he said when he made his abrupt appearance that day: the transmission was genuine. How House got the information was an absolute mystery to McNamara, but he decided that it was in his best interest not to pry in the man, or computer's affairs.

As time passed, McNamara grew to despise House more than he thought was possible. The Old World ghost had declined to offer any help after the mission at Chulak, and if anything he only served to drain resources from the program's operations, namely with his hostile takeover of Ra's mothership. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Courier was somehow involved with this, but he didn't have any solid proof to back it up save for the initial meeting when he just arrived with his Securitrons. House had used the gate to shuttle his robots and several mysterious shipments to and from the mothership from Earth, and he was obviously planning something big.

Sure, he popped up again to send them snippets of information, and he knew that he did it for some sort of ulterior purpose, but to what end he didn't know. All he could do was the rather inglorious act of keeping his head down in order to prevent a second Hidden Valley. He had told Rothchild as much when the scribe questioned their agreement.

House aside, McNamara had dozens of other concerns which threatened to give him an early death by stress. The most immediate one he had was the rumours of there being a saboteur in their midst, and on Ramos' urging he was considering a series of interviews for all base personnel. The Goa'uld were not an immediate suspect as Teal'c had not claimed not to sense anyone else like the initiate after the alien disease incident, but they couldn't take any chances.

Rothchild was resistant to the idea, but he knew it was for the greater good. "This is going to be an arduous task, McNamara. I sincerely hope that this truly is the right course of action."

"I've found myself having to say this more and more," replied McNamara, "but I suppose it bears saying. At this point, we don't really have any other choice."

"I understand," replied Rothchild. "Lyons carried the same burden when he made the decision to help the Wasteland, and even now he still does. Your strength will see you through."

"Let's hope it does," breathed McNamara. He dismissed him and looked around him before closing the door to his office and locking it. He took a well-deserved rest which he hoped would last for at least a few hours.

-=(O)=-

Head Paladin Ramos looked at the Capital Wastelander scribe that sat across from him. He was a thin, freckled young man with hair the colour of a dirt-caked T-45d suit, and from his first impression alone you could tell he wasn't the kind of man who didn't have obtaining female companionship as one of his main priorities.

"Scribe Harold Howard," read Ramos from his personnel clipboard. "Is that right?"

The scribe looked at him and shrugged nonchalantly. His voice seemed far too relaxed for someone who was being questioned. "Yeah, I guess? That's my name."

Ramos put down the clipboard and put his hands on the table before arranging them in a pyramid-like gesture. "All right, Harold. You were with the third wave of transports from the Citadel?"

Harold shrugged again, this time in a manner more befitting of someone who made it his purpose in life to slack as much as possible. Ramos couldn't discern whether or not the gesture was deliberate. "I guess?" he repeated. "Uh, yeah."

Ramos nodded. "How much do you know about the Stargate?"

Harold took a moment to respond. "It spins, right?"

The Head Paladin just gave him a wooden look as he moved on through the list of questions. "I… see. How has your experience been with our chapter so far?"

"Pretty okay," replied the scribe. "I guess."

Ramos sighed and massaged his forehead. This was going to be a long day.

-=(O)=-

Veronica and the rest of SG-1 made their way to a clearing where the battle was taking place. They saw Ba'al's jaffa at one end firing their staff weapons with reckless abandon at a group of humans who seemed to be wearing matching plain off-white uniforms. The figures were armed with zat'nik'tels and were taking cover behind the tropical trees at the edge of the clearing, returning fire at the jaffa who fired the barrage of energy projectiles at them.

The ground between them was something of a miniature no-man's-land, except with plants and the corpses of some of the planet's indigenous wildlife. It was clear that the clearing itself wasn't natural, as its "ground" was mostly composed of tropical wood blasted down from their roots by staff weapon fire. SG-1 immediately hit the dirt as a projectile zipped past Daniel, who had instead taken cover behind a tree like the other group.

"Well, this is something," commented Arcade over the din of battle. He took out his Q-35 and loaded it with Veronica's custom naquadah-infused microfusion cells, making its barrel glow as the gun hummed with energy.

"Excellent observation, doc," deadpanned Veronica, who didn't think it was wise to punch things right now. She was assembling her modified and "collapsible" Wattz laser rifle from the parts she carried alongside her gloves in her glove box. When she was done, she loaded it in the same way that Arcade did and it came to life with a slightly different hum. She'd outfitted its barrel with a second, less-powerful laser designed to act as an aiming assistance apparatus.

Teal'c handed Daniel one of his spare zats as he followed the old man's lead and took cover behind a tree as well. "Do you wish to attack the jaffa now, Veronica Santangelo?"

"You know," said Veronica, who had just finished calibrating her rifle, "you don't have to call me by my _full _name. I mean, that's kind of inconvenient. Just call me Veronica. And yes, please attack." She raised her rifle and took aim at a jaffa's head, pulling the trigger once she'd lined up the laser sight. It was a perfect shot, and the soldier's face melted into an unrecognizable mess as he screamed in agony. Daniel winced at the sound of that.

"Very well," replied Teal'c, who rounded his cover as he started blasting away with his zat at the jaffa. Daniel followed suit, albeit with less accuracy.

"You're saying these things _stun_, right?" asked Daniel.

"Indeed," replied Teal'c as he fired off another shot. "One shot stuns. Two shots kill."

"What happens when you fire a third?" asked Arcade, who had been pulling the trigger for a few seconds in order to charge an explosive shot.

Teal'c shrugged. "You cannot kill what is already dead."

"I beg to differ," retorted Veronica as she fired a charged shot that missed her target and disintegrated a tree into ash instantly. "Dammit," she cursed.

Arcade released his shot and a magnetically-accelerated and supercharged burst of plasma shot out from his rifle, hitting one of the trees in the middle of the jaffa formation. It exploded in a mess of superheated energy, vaporizing the tree and two of the enemy soldiers near it. By the time the smoke cleared, there were only two that remained.

Confused, they attempted to flee but they were immediately shot by the humans they'd been attacking earlier by zat shots, knocking them out mid-run. One of them hit a tree head on, and by the time he was on the ground his head was bleeding. When they saw that the enemy was gone, SG-1 lowered their weapons and made their way to the direction of the people Ba'al's jaffa were attacking.

As it turns out, there had only been two of them – an injured woman with short blonde hair that almost matched Veronica's and a blue-eyed man who was helping her walk over to them. "Thank you," he said. "I take it you're enemies of Ba'al?"

"We are enemies of all Goa'uld," said Teal'c.

"And yeah," continued Veronica. "You're welcome. Who are you guys?"

"I am Martouf," replied the man, smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet you, if you are indeed who you say you are. This is Jolinar."

The woman waved meekly at them before her eyes glowed yellow. "I-"

She was interrupted when most of SG-1 save for Daniel raised their werapons at the sight.

"She is a Goa'uld," observed Teal'c. "We cannot trust her. You are making a big mistake."

"I concur," agreed Arcade. Veronica nodded at him. Daniel remained silent.

Martouf gazed at the group, confused before he spoke again. "Oh dear," he muttered. "I'm afraid there's been a confusion. If I… if we, could just explain the situation, then I'm sure-"

"What situation is there to explain?" asked Teal'c indignantly. "We cannot trust her. She is Goa'uld."

"I am not a Goa'uld," replied Jolinar. "We are Tok'ra. We fight the Goa'uld, same as you do."

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Veronica, turning to Daniel. "Do you know what that is?"

"Tok…" muttered Daniel. "Means against. Resistance."

Teal'c responded to the statement by tilting his head. The rest of the group looked at him.

"Teal'c?" asked Veronica. "Do you know what-"

"There is a legend among the jaffa of a race of symbiotes who rebelled against the System Lords," said Teal'c, lowering his weapon. "If what they say is true, then it is they who-"

"Wait, wait, wait," interrupted Daniel. "Are you saying that there are good Goa'uld out there?"

"We are not Goa'uld," insisted Jolinar. "They are the antithesis of every fibre of our being. If you could just let us explain-"

Veronica looked between Daniel and Teal'c. "Guys?" she said. "You're not _seriously _considering this, are you?"

Arcade lowered his weapon. "You know-"

Veronica looked at Arcade and then at Jolinar and Martouf. They both looked at her as if they were asking for mercy.

"Dammit," muttered Veronica, who kept her weapon raised. "What _exactly _is going on here?"

"We will be more than happy to explain our situation," replied Martouf. "Please. We've seen you fight against the jaffa, and you have seen us do so as well. Don't you believe that we're on the same side?"

"Well…" said Veronica hesitantly. "I mean-"

"Veronica," said Arcade sternly. "Put the gun down."

Veronica frowned at him and did so. "Gee whiz," she complained. "Fine, doc." She turned to the presumed Tok'ra and raised an eyebrow at them, sighing. "So. We trust you, you trust us. First thing I'm going to need is some answers to a couple of questions."

"What do you want to know?" asked the injured Jolinar, before coughing.

Arcade looked at Martouf and walked over to them. "Do you need any help?" he asked the woman. "I'm a doctor, I can-"

Jolinar raised her hand to interrupt him. "Don't. The symbiote will heal me, it's just a matter of time."

Veronica clapped once to get the group's attention. She rubbed her hands together vigorously. "Not to rain on your parade there guys, but you know, urgent mission? Okay. So… Questions. Let's start with the basics, shall we?"

-=(O)=-

Paladin Leibowitz, Knight Steakley, and Scribe Anita O'Neill took cover behind the walls of an abandoned building as they saw a group of legionnaires walk past them on the cracked and faded concrete of the ruined city's main avenue. The group was rather standard - a squad of recruits led by a decanus, and from what they could discern from their torchlight they were likely rebels. Their vexillarius didn't carry Caesar's banner and their armor had been coloured a deep orange as opposed to the Legion's regular red.

Nobody in SG-3 cared much for their divisions, though. They peeked through the windows with their low-light sights until the last legionnaire left, and even then Leibowitz ordered them to stay until he said the coast was clear. Steakley protested that decision until they heard the gunshots. Leibowitz identified the first shot to have come from a sniper rifle, followed by a rapid succession of burst shot fires from what he assumed were likely 10mm submachine guns. Several of the legionnaires began shouting over each other – a sign that their group commander had likely been taken out. He couldn't follow the brief exchange that happened next, but from what he could discern a bunch of assault rifles opened fire for a few seconds before they were quickly shut down by pistol fire.

"That's weird," whispered the scribe. "Could it be another internal conflict?"

"Let's not make any judgements yet, O'Neill," said Leibowitz. "Stay here and guard the brahmin. Steakley, with me. Keep a low profile and use cover as much as you can. Survey the scene."

"Got it," replied the knight, who followed the paladin out of the door as he took point wielding a Wattz laser pistol.

Leibowitz adjusted his low-light goggles and strengthened the green light that permeated his vision, allowing him to see a group of armed Wastelanders, carrying flashlights and inspecting their surroundings. It seemed like most of them were female. He took a chance and moved to closer cover to eavesdrop on them. Upon closer inspection, there were about four of them. Three were carrying H&amp;K P90c submachine guns and one of them was the one carrying a scoped .308 sniper rifle.

"-nother squad down," said one of the figures. "We're going to have to take these bodies out again."

"Again, ma'am?" asked another. "My arms are still sore after that group we dumped into that building three hours ago. And did we really have to strip them?"

"Can't risk 'em finding out," said the officer. "It's unpleasant work, but if we don't do it-"

The officer held up her hand. "Hold up. I heard something."

Leibowitz heard it too. He turned around and saw that the brahmin had managed to get out of the building. It was simply standing there in the middle of the avenue. He sent a signal to Steakley and ordered him to keep silent.

"A cow?" asked the officer, shining her flashlight at it.

"No, ma'am," said one of her subordinates. Her voice was different compared to the previous figures. "Well, not technically. It's a mutant."

"Did I ask for your opinion, sergeant?" asked the officer.

"No, ma'am," replied the voice.

"Looks like it's packing," continued the officer. "Vega, Hailey, get over there check that thing out. It might have some supplies."

The two of them gave her a nod and walked over to the brahmin, shining their flashlights at it as they inspected one of the bags. They heard a noise from one of the buildings and immediately turned their flashlights see Scribe O'Neill attempting to sneak back to the creature.

"Shit," she muttered.

"Hey!" shouted Vega, pointing her rifle at her. "Get up."

The scribe stood up and held her hands behind her head.

"What are you doing here?" asked Vega.

"Just a peaceful trader," faked the scribe. "Now, I'm not here to do any harm. Please, if you just let me go…"

"What's in these bags?" asked Hailey.

"Merchandise," replied Anita. "You know. General trinkets. We're bound for the Mojave. I've got a shipment due to the Crimson Caravan and if I don't get there in the scheduled time they'll have my heads for this. Uh, not literally, of course. And I only have one head."

"Trinkets, huh?" inquired Vega. "Awful lot of them to be carrying around on the back of an animal like that. Mind if you show us some? I'd love to get my hands on some souvenirs, if you would be kind enough as to hand over some out of courtesy, of course."

Hailey turned at her with a sour look on her face. Vega just shrugged and gave her a facetious grin. "Well?"

"Uh…" stammered Anita before she was interrupted by the voice of Leibowitz.

"Step away from the brahmin," he ordered. "And drop your guns. We don't need to be enemies here." The two soldiers turned around to see Leibowitz and Steakley pointing weapons they'd never seen before at the backs of the other two members of their squad. Hailey and Vega's eyes went wide with surprise as they both raised their weapons.

"Where the hell did you come from?" demanded Vega.

"I think you better do what he says," said their commanding officer, a rather tall woman who upon closer inspection would be perfectly described by using the word "Amazon".

"How do we know those things aren't just toys?" asked Hailey.

Steakley, annoyed, pointed his laser rifle upwards and pulled the trigger. A beam of red light streaked into the air and briefly illuminated the area. Leibowitz turned to him indignantly.

"You _idiot!_" shouted Leibowitz. In the distance, they heard the sound of shouting in the Legion's faux-Latin. He took his gun away from the officer's back as he scrambled for cover. Steakley followed suit as they vanished into an alley. In the distance, a group of recruits bearing torches had spotted the squad toting flashlights.

"Over there!" shouted one of them as they ran forward, taking cover behind the building and loading their weapons. Taking advantage of the distraction, Anita took the brahmin's tug and hurriedly pulled it over back inside the building. Vega and Hailey followed her as they reloaded their P90cs.

Vega looked at the scribe and shined her flashlight at her face. Anita pushed it away and took out her 9mm pistol.

"Oh, so youhave a weapon," remarked the former airman. "You don't look the type."

"Shut up," replied the scribe as she peeked over the window. A bullet whizzed past her and dug itself into the wall. "Who are you people?"

"We're the Resistance," replied Hailey. "You've probably heard the rumours."

"That's funny," observed Anita, "because I think you're just the people we're looking for."

"Say what?" asked Vega, confused.

"Talk about it later," continued Anita. She pointed her thumb outside. "Legion."

The trio looked outside and saw a legionnaire lighting a stick of dynamite. Once she'd spotted him, Lieutenant Hailey immediately aimed at the legionnaire's arm and opened fire. By a stroke of luck, one of her bullets struck the stick of dynamite and caused it to detonate, causing the legionnaire and the man next to him to explode into deformed masses of former human flesh.

They heard the sound of lasers and gunfire being exchanged outside. Anita used her pistol to fire three blind shots out of the window, hitting nothing of importance except old walls. The other two were more professional in their work, but they had to stop in between the sight of laser shots as they were unfamiliar with energy weapons before. After all, those things hadn't entered wide use yet when they were turned into popsicles.

Leibowitz and Steakley had in the heat of the moment allied themselves with the two soldiers that they'd previously pointed their weapons at, as they shared a common enemy in the form of the legionnaires. Steakley may have exaggerated a bit with his whole "weakness" talk, but Leibowitz knew that the young man had skill when it came to discerning enemy weaknesses by sight alone.

"It looks like we share a common enemy," observed Leibowitz as a supercharged laser beam disintegrated an incoming machete-wielding legionnaire. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot here."

"You think?" replied the commanding officer sarcastically. "In any case, we're both in it now. Captain Wilhelmina Brasker, United States Marine Corps."

"The United States is dead," said Leibowitz. "It died a long time ago."

"I figured that," replied the captain. "If anyone's going to bring it back, it's us."

Leibowitz glared at her and scoffed. "The Enclave is dead too. I should know, I was there."

Brasker shot out a legionnaire's machete before lining up a headshot. "The fuck's an Enclave? We're the Resistance. Maybe you've heard of us. We're a little big around these parts."

Leibowitz was aiming for a legionnaire before Steakley finished that job for him. He looked at the kid and gave him an approving nod. It was the last one. Once he had confirmed that, he stood up and ejected his microfusion cells. He eyed the marine carefully before turning to Steakley and grunting. "Maybe. Why don't you tell us a little bit more about yourself?"

The captain shrugged and saw that Vega and Hailey had come out of cover and were making their way to her, accompanied by a hooded figure who had a scarf concealing their face. She assumed that person to be part of Leibowitz's group. "That's funny. I was just about to ask you the same thing."

-=(O)=-

McNamara called an emergency security council into order to discuss this massive breach of security. They had discovered several C-4 bombs planted throughout the facility, mostly by sheer luck. The security details had managed to disarm them as they were found but there were worries that there could be more of them planted around the facility.

Lorenzo had proven his innocence when he pulled up the security feeds of the armoury and found footage of several mysterious figures entering it before it was abruptly cut off by what seemed to be an EMP pulse. From what he could tell, the C-4 found throughout the facility by the subsequent patrols accounted for only twenty three out of sixty explosives stolen.

The council had made a pre-emptive measure to evacuate essential personnel over to Abydos where they hadn't managed to discover any explosives, so far. Rothchild spared any help he could in finding the remaining bombs and the thieves who'd stolen them from the inventory, but there was only so much he could do. McNamara had called for House's help in the situation, but as always the illusive man didn't even seem to hear his plea for help.

In a way, though, that was comforting. McNamara had interacted with him enough to know that he would only spare help if it served his best interests, and right now he could see that preserving the Stargate program was at the top of his list of priorities. He wasn't taking any chances, though. House may be concerned for the wellbeing of the program, but he didn't care much about the men and women that were involved in it.

"We still don't know who did this," complained Ramos. "I've interviewed as many people as I can, but rooting out spies and saboteurs isn't my specialty. I don't believe it could be the refugees, since those who were allowed to leave weren't allowed to come back in again, and the others simply don't have the know-how to do this kind of thing. I hate to say this, Nolan, but that leaves us with a small list of suspects. It's either one of ours or," he looked at Rothchild. "One of yours."

"Preposterous," replied Rothchild. "Our people were hand-picked by Lyons himself and it would be most unlike him to trust someone that could jeopardize this project. I realize that may not mean much to you-"

McNamara let out an exasperated sigh. "Arguing won't do us any good. If we don't find these traitors soon, the program, our future, will be in jeopardy. We can't just sit here and point fingers at each other. If we don't find something out-"

The facility's sirens started whining. Red light bathed the briefing room as Ibsen barged into the council's meeting. "Elder," he said, panting. "We have a breach in the gate room. Someone's locked us out from the Stargate controls."

McNamara looked at Ibsen and stood up, grimacing. Before he spoke, Ibsen interrupted him again after he'd caught his breath.

"There's more. Someone's hacked into our system and sent us a message. They lowered the blast doors, so I couldn't catch a glimpse of them. Whoever they are, they want you to go down to the control room and talk to them, alone and unarmed, personally. They're threatening to destroy the facility if you don't comply."

McNamara peered at the council contemplatively before nodding at Ibsen. "I assume you already know what I'm going to say."

"The choice is yours, elder," said Ramos, standing up. "If you go through with this, then-"

"I know," interjected the elder. "But what we're doing here is far too valuable to give up now. If I don't return from this ordeal, you're going to be in charge."

Ramos nodded. "Let's hope it won't come to that."

"Are you sure about this?" asked Rothchild sceptically. "For all you know, this might be a feint."

"We can't take the chance," replied Ramos. "In the meantime, I'll offer what help I can."

McNamara gave them a nod as he made his way to the gate room. He stood in front of the blast doors guarding the gate and knocked on the metal. "I'm here!" he shouted.

The door opened with a hiss of steam as he saw five people in the gate room – two of them were clad in T-51b power armour and two more in scribe robes. There was a man in elder robes standing just in front of the Stargate, brandishing what was definitely a remote detonator. He turned around once he heard the door open and gave McNamara a contemptuous smirk.

The old man looked like he wasn't the kind of man to be a major participant in a mass murder. If McNamara hadn't recognized him before and had never heard of him, he would have assumed that he was just a kindly old man. He recognized the elder from when he used to serve in the West – Elijah had noted that he was one of the more fervent supporters of the Brotherhood's traditions. The elder's name had escaped McNamara, but most didn't really care about that piece of detail, anyway. He had a nickname that served as his identity well enough – Stoneface, named for his seemingly persistent facial expression where he always seemed to be particularly unimpressed. He wasn't wearing that expression now.

"McNamara," he said welcomingly as he walked into the room. The power-armour clad figures pointed tri-beam laser rifles at him. "Don't mind these gentlemen, please. I assure you I'm here as a diplomat, not a murderer."

"I wouldn't exactly call _this _diplomacy," deadpanned McNamara. "You're not welcome here."

"Come now, is that any way to talk to someone who helped you get to where you are today?" replied Stoneface, frowning. "I would have expected a response like that from Elijah, but not from you. Frankly, I'm disappointed."

McNamara just gave him an extended glare. "What do you want, O'Hara?"

"Cutting to the chase, I see," replied the elder. "Well, I'll keep it short. Hand over control of the Stargate over to the _true _Brotherhood and we'll see if we can just exile you for your sins as opposed to executing your entire chapter."

Elder Nolan McNamara looked at him defiantly and crossed his arms. "This device is the key to providing a better future for the human race, and it doesn't just belong to you and your superiors any more. Like or not, that era is over. Kill me now if you must. You can't escape."

"Then so be it. You and your men will pay for betraying the Codex, McNamara," said Stoneface. "Make no mistake. The resistance you put up will only serve to prolong your inevitable punishment. Make it easier for yourself and surrender now before things get any worse. Paladins-"

His order was interrupted when the Stargate began to spin. Stoneface looked behind him as he just stood in awe of its operation, speechless. McNamara acted in the heat of the moment as the distraction took place, rushing towards one of the paladins and taking a grip on his laser rifle before he could react. Old as he was, years of combat experience was a hard thing to erase from a man. McNamara turned the rifle around and pointed it straight at his unarmoured face, pulling the trigger.

At such close proximity, all three beams came together and practically turned the man's face into a charred mess of blackened brain and skull. The sight was gruesome, but the elder had seen worse. He immediately sidestepped and took cover behind the fallen paladin, holding him up as cover when the other one began firing the rifle at him. With both hands occupied on protecting himself, he had to drop his weapon as he started doubling backwards in an attempt to activate the door before the beams caught up to him.

Stoneface turned around at the sudden sound of combat and held up the remote detonator. "I told you-"

Although the Western elder knew the Stargate's purpose, he didn't bother to read about its inner workings. That was work for scribes below his station. The disintegration vortex kicked in as the gate was activated, turning him and the detonator into a pile of smoking boots on the ground. The two scribes stood there in shock as they tried to process what had happened, and when it finally kicked in they panicked and ran for the open door. One of them was caught by the remaining paladin's tri-beam shots, hitting him square in the belly and knocking him to the ground with a smoking wound where his stomach used to be. He screamed in pain and cried out for someone to help him.

The other one managed to get out the door, but she was greeted by Senior Knight Lorenzo who was pointing a laser pistol at him. That stopped her right in her tracks.

From the open gate, SG-1 and Martouf stumbled out with confused looks on their faces. Veronica took one look at the situation and muttered a "what the fuck" before she fired her rifle from the hip at the paladin who seemed to be attacking McNamara. By luck, the shot had managed to hit the paladin's weapon, causing its capacitors to overload and short out which made it useless. Unarmed, the figure dropped it and looked at the odds arrayed against him. He surrendered.

-=(O)=-

The council reeled in shock from the revelation brought to them by SG-1 and the Tok'ra. Veronica had managed to convince them to trust Martouf for the time being, as the Tok'ra council had agreed to begin talks for an alliance. The program's joint council was still wary of them, but they needed to take all the help they could get after the West's attempted sabotage.

"How long do we have?" asked McNamara.

"We don't know," replied Martouf's symbiote, Lantash. "But our operatives believe that the ships are almost ready to deploy. Taking our most conservative estimates, you have two weeks at most before Apophis' ships arrive."

"That's not enough time to assemble our combined resources," said Rothchild. "And even then, we simply don't _have _the capability to defend ourselves against such an attack. I mean, we're talking about spaceships here."

"We have Ra's mothership," explained Veronica. "Why can't we use that to-"

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Miss Santangelo," interjected Mr. House, who had made another of his surprise appearances.

"Goddammit, not _you _again," said Veronica, groaning.

Martouf looked at the screen and raised an eyebrow in confusion, turning to Daniel beside him. "What's going on?"

"Oh, that's Mr. House," said Daniel. "That's the, uh, guy I was telling you about. I don't even know if he's a guy or computer. He likes to make these random appearances every now and again."

"As much as you may need it, Ra's mothership is not available for rent," explained House.

"We don't have any other options, House," said McNamara furiously. "If we don't stop these aliens soon, then you will be affected-"

"I'm offering you an alternative, McNamara," interjected House. "This is an option that you've considered before."

"What option?" asked McNamara indignantly. "If this is another one of your-"

"Do you want my help or not?" asked House. "It's in the spirit of mutual cooperation that I am even considering this option."

"Tell us, then," replied Veronica. "What sort of kooky master plan do you have in mind this time?"

"_As I said,_" continued House, his voice indicating that he was running out of patience. "This is something that you've encountered before. This time, however, you won't be allowed to fail, especially since you can't afford to with the whole world at stake."

McNamara banged his hand on the table and turned to House angrily. "I'm getting tired of this. Get to the point."

"Very well," replied the man on the screen. "It's time you paid another visit to HELIOS One."


	13. All or Nothing

**ALL OR NOTHING**

McNamara had called Veronica and the Tok'ra to discuss the forecast of the ships that were about to make their way to Earth. Although he trusted her judgement, he still felt apprehensive of some of her decisions. He had enough troubles with the infiltration from the Western loyalists, and the fact that the world hung in the balance this time meant that he couldn't take this matter with even a hint of lightness.

He looked at the two aliens that SG-1 had brought with them over from Ba'al's planet. Although the mission had been a success, thanks in no small part to them, he still had his doubts on their loyalties. For now, though, they seemed to be genuine. He was taking a huge gamble with this, but at this point every choice seemed to be one. Every single decision he made could make or break the fate of the world.

"HELIOS One," spat McNamara. "I suppose we can call this irony."

Veronica nodded. "These things seem to have a way of going full circle."

McNamara agreed as he turned to the two Tok'ra representatives once more. "You have to understand the risk we're taking here. If this plan of yours fails…"

"We're well aware of what you're risking," replied Jolinar of Malkshur. "Our intelligence reports that Apophis brings only two ships, however. If this weapon, this satellite, has the capability to do as you say it does, then your problem may well be solved in one fell stroke."

"Yes," agreed the elder. "But even then, we have no idea what our enemy is capable of. For all we know, it could barely even do any damage."

"This is where we perform our part of the bargain," explained Martouf. "Our operatives on the ships will do whatever they can to lower its defences and will give the signal when it is possible to do so through your long-range equipment. Once that's done-"

"Ah, we have _just _a little problem there," interjected Veronica. "We, uh, don't really _have _any of that stuff, so to speak. I may have neglected to mention this before, but we're kind of living in a post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland. I mean, sure, most of our equipment works fine and dandy but they're actually over a hundred years old. Two hundred, actually."

The two Tok'ra looked at each other and then back at Veronica. "Excuse us," said Jolinar as they left the room.

McNamara glared at the scribe. "You only mentioned this to them _now_?"

Veronica shook her head. "The thought didn't cross my mind the first time. I guess they just kind of assumed we were advanced. But it's not like we have a _total _absence of that kind of stuff, though. This would go a whole lot easier if a little _someone _would just lend some of that super robot equipment or something."

"My hands are tied on that matter, Veronica."

"His ass is on the line too, you know. Why he won't even lift a finger to help us is kind of dumb."

"As much as I despise the man, I'm sure he has something planned. His shipments to Abydos have increased significantly ever since this threat was revealed to us. If there's anything I learned from all the reports I've received, however, it's that he values himself above all else. He might just be preparing himself for evacuation. Let's just hope that whatever he's doing, it would be in our best interest."

"Still," sighed Veronica. "Why can't he just be more direct, y'know? His robots that go through the place keep giving off that creepy 'I'm-watching-you-sleep' vibe and he doesn't even bother to leave a note. Talk about a bad lover."

Jolinar and Martouf entered the room once more as they took their seats. McNamara and Veronica looked at them as they waited for their response.

"We've given it some thought," said Martouf. "And we believe there may be another way."

Veronica leaned in. "Which would be…?"

Jolinar nodded. "If the ships have not already started on their path to this world, then you may still be able to do something. If you can somehow disrupt them before they leave and work with our operatives to sabotage the launch, you may be able to buy yourselves some more time. "

Veronica nodded pseudo-enthusiastically. "That's good. More time is always good."

"It's a risky choice," she continued, "but given your… state, it's the best we can do to help. No more than that, however. Any more help would risk exposure. We don't trust you enough to lend you any more help. We hope you understand."

"Swell," murmured Veronica as she sighed. "Well, it's better than nothing, I always say. In this instance, at least. Where do we start?"

-=(O)=-

"I think there's spies here," said Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay. He planted his hands in front of the old desk that Colonel Maybourne sat behind. "I mean, think about it. All of our last assaults on the slave camps to get our people, what did they have in common?" He pointed at him. "That's right, they _failed_. They knew _exactly _when we were going to attack and where, and they all transferred our popsicles out just before we arrived. That can't be a coincidence."

Harry Maybourne raised his eyebrow and stroked the goatee on his chin, frowning. "That's a wild theory you got there, but-"

"_But!_" continued McKay. "We can do something about it."

The colonel looked at him pensively. "What kind of plan did you have in mind for this one, McKay?"

"A mole hunt," he suggested. "Round up all of the guys following us, question them one by one. You didn't seriously think we could trust _all _of them, did you?"

"Yes, that's all fine and dandy, but how exactly are you proposing to actually do that? Do you have some sort of magic science device that can help us tell who's lying?"

McKay raised his index finger as he tried to come up with a reply, but he fell short of what he wanted to say. "Uh, let me get back to you on that. Still, if-"

"Get out of my face," replied Maybourne. He shooed him away with his right hand. "Go on now, shoo."

McKay glared at him and nodded begrudgingly. He silently walked out of the command tent at a brisk pace, almost bumping into Samantha Carter and nodding at her before he left.

"Another one of his hare-brained schemes, sir?" she inquired, looking curiously at Maybourne.

"You can bet on it. Still, his concerns aren't completely invalid. We have a mole somewhere in our little Resistance, but with only a partial list of those stored in the pods we can't pinpoint whoever it is."

"Well, sir," said Carter after she walked over to the desk. "From what I've heard, Caesar has a bunch of spies under his command. The Frumentarii, I think they're called. I don't know much about them, but they're apparently a lot like those communist sleeper agents we've always been warned about."

"I've hunted my fair share of commies, and this is no different. Whoever this guy is, we should be able to root him out soon enough. In the meantime, we have to work on establishing contact with our other cells, especially Weir's. How are our comms coming along?"

"We could be doing a lot better, sir. We still need actual equipment. Like I said, we can only do so much with what we have on hand. Sooner or later we're going to need dedicated salvage teams instead of just poking around and devoting all our assets to liberating our people."

"I know." Maybourne sighed. "But these are _slavers_. You've seen firsthand what they do to people. I admit I've done some terrible things, but these guys are on a whole other level. They deserve nothing short of extermination."

"I know," concurred Carter. "It's been rough for all of us, but that doesn't mean we have to waste our resources. Respectfully speaking, sir, we need to pick our battles. We can't just run around the wasteland shooting at every Roman uniform we see. Sooner or later we'll run out of luck."

"I was never much of a politician," admitted Maybourne. "But from what I can see, these guys are divided with each other. I suppose we could step up your guerrilla skills. Disinformation, false flag attacks, and all that stuff. We'll need more information on what we're fighting, though."

"I agree, sir," said Carter. "But we still need to start looking for technology we can use. With your permission, I'd like to-"

"Take whoever you need, Carter," said Maybourne. "I'll defer to your judgement on this one. I was never one for the technical stuff."

"Thank you, sir," she said as she saluted and left the command tent.

The camp they'd established reminded her of her time in the Middle East, during one of the many skirmishes they'd had with Soviet-sponsored armies. Tattered flags of the United States stood over many of the tents, flying high and free amidst a sea of patchwork cloth and leather. The camp had built into a long-abandoned and looted hill, divided into three tiers, based on their elevation from the ground. They were separated by walls and gates of scrap metal from a myriad number of Pre-War objects.

The first tier, which she stood in, served as the hub of the Resistance and a command and control centre for their operations. The comms center was nearby; a circle of tents surrounding a makeshift transmitter which occasionally spat out sparks of electricity from a haphazardly-built power station. McKay had mitigated the risk of those sparks a bit with a few grounding rods, but he knew as well as anyone did that this should only be a short term thing.

The second tier served as a sort of residential district - rows of tents arranged in cubes that acted as "blocks" for the "neighbourhood". It wasn't much of one, she knew, but it served well enough. Like everything else in the camp, it was supposed to be temporary but that statement seemed to mean less and less as their insurgency dragged on. It also acted as a sort of "hospital" for the unfrozen that had been traumatized by enslavement, especially the females.

The third tier served as both a defensive perimeter for the camp and as a training ground for anyone willing to fight against the Legion. Shooting ranges and arenas were set up outside to hone their skills, and from what she could see there were several groups active in that regard. With the ammunition being rationed carefully out to the assault teams, though, training with firearms had to be done mostly with imaginary shots. Hand-to-hand and melee combat training served as a more popular option for the time being, and the trainers kept busy with that regard.

Carter headed over to the communications tent to inspect their progress. As far as workspaces went, it wasn't too bad, relatively speaking. Sure, it was a sweaty and cramped thing that would give any self-respecting claustrophobic a heart attack, but it was home. The team echoed the vibe given off by the tent; all mismatched and logically incompatible yet still somehow able to function. They didn't have the luxury of having dedicated radio and communications engineers within the Cheyenne Mountain popsicles, so Maybourne just assigned anyone who had happened to have at least an inkling of experience in a technical or scientific field to work on it.

Needless to say, the results were less than stellar. Even though Carter and McKay were the best in their fields by some distance ahead of anyone else, there was only so much they could do with so little. She looked at one of the technicians bent over a broken HAM radio, trying to piece together something that would help them in their quest to establish reliable communications. She looked at another one, a former physicist frantically scrawling equations on a tattered piece of paper in an attempt to formulate an equation of some sort – to what end, though, she didn't know.

McKay had snuck up next to her somehow. He gave an intellectual grunt as he eyed the busy operators. "Not exactly what I'd call an OSHA-compliant work environment."

"Where'd you come from?" asked Carter.

McKay made a gesture. "Oh, just here and there. You know, wandering around."

"Right. What was that thing with Maybourne earlier?"

McKay gave her a look. "Oh, that? You know, just a little bit of emergency awareness. Just a little suggestion that he should maybe do something about the probable spy in our midst. You know, routine stuff."

"You know he worked for Black Ops, right? This kind of thing isn't exactly new to him."

"He was?" asked McKay, surprised. "Huh. Well, moving on. This little operation here isn't really what I'd call a picnic, Sam. And I hate picnics."

"Well, I'm hoping to change the situation," she replied. "I'm preparing a team to salvage what technology we can from around here. I figure if we could break into some pre-apocalypse facilities and take what we can get there, maybe we'll find some equipment that we could actually use. Broken equipment, true, but equipment nonetheless."

McKay just nodded at her. "Well, that sounds awfully dangerous and not worth the risk. Good luck with that, though."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she retorted. "You could use some fresh air, you know."

McKay gazed outside the tent and wafted his hand in the air. "I wouldn't exactly call this fresh. I mean, who knows how many pollutants are in the atmosphere after the nuclear holocaust? I'm amazed I'm not dead yet, what with all of these irradiated particles and whatever else is floating around here."

"You'll get used to it," she said. "You should consider coming along, you know. A first-hand chance to explore what's left of the world."

"Thanks, but no thanks," he replied. "I've already exposed myself to enough danger as it is. Your offer's enticing, but there's zero chance that I'm going out there."

"Just consider it, that's all I'm saying."

-=(O)=-

Vulpes Inculta had never expected this to happen. It was an oversight that he intended to correct, especially now that these Profligates had struck at the heart of Caesar's Land itself. Already plagued by enemies from both the West and the East and within, the Legion was straining under the weight of the chaos that threatened to consume it. Caesar's new Legate had been hard-pressed to keep order within Arizona alone, what more for the other territories who were expected to hold their own?

The Frumentarii weren't exempt from the rebellions, and Vulpes knew that. Agents seemed to desert him on an almost weekly basis, turning their coats to side with traitors and Profligates. The lack of information worried him, although he did not want to admit it. Weakness has no place in the Legion. He intended to fix this problem through whatever means necessary, and Caesar seemed to agree as much.

Caesar himself had grown rather different lately, he noticed. He always seemed to be tired, withdrawn. He barely even made any appearances to his subjects any more, preferring instead to have his Praetorian Guard relay his messages. It was almost as if he'd grown weak, but Vulpes knew that to be impossible. Doubt had no place in the Legion, the Frumentarius assured himself. He steered away from that train of thought and focused on the task at hand: the elimination of this so-called Resistance.

Finding them hadn't been a hard task – they made a point of distinguishing themselves from the Legion around them. Although it would have been easy to have been child's play to crush them where they stood, more pressing matters prevented the Legion from doing so. The civil war had gone worse for the Legion after the massive breakout of slaves in Caesar's capital, which had deprived it of a valuable labour force. The Frumentarii had a hard time trying to keep track of what information they could, and more often than not they had little to go on save for rumours and hearsay.

It wasn't until recently that they came upon reliable information, though. Several Frumentarii had managed to infiltrate the central command of the Resistance, but Vulpes felt that it was only a matter of time until they were discovered. For now, though, he had to take advantage of what opportunities presented themselves.

Such an opportunity presented itself in one of the camps that had been spotted by a loyalist Explorer. It was lightly defended, staffed mostly by Profligate doctors and other such "healers". The Legion didn't take kindly to such people, and Vulpes knew that assaulting it would send a powerful message to those that believed that they could take on Caesar's might. This operation would be carried out much like the sack of Nipton, only this time they had no intention of doling out the luxury of mercy.

Vulpes held no love for doctors and such Profligate healers, but he knew that they had their uses. These uses were of no use in Caesar's land, however. These healers encouraged weakness and only served to soften the resolve of warriors, and such values were an abomination to what they believed in. Unfortunately, some of the locals in the area had been swayed by these Profligates' words and lies. They were bringing their sick and their injured to be treated, leading them to live in disgrace rather than just let them die honourably. Needless to say, such thought was dangerous and should never be allowed to flourish.

The camp was positioned at the base of an abandoned Pre-War city. The Legion used to occupy it with an outpost assigned to guard caravans that went through the roads, but after the defeat at Hoover Dam it was eventually abandoned. The Resistance occupied three buildings at the former Legion buildings, repurposing them for their "hospital". The main building, which had been a restaurant, had been converted into the main ward. There were guards stationed at its rooftop, standing sentry with stolen hunting rifles plundered from the local armoury.

The other two acted as living quarters for the rest of the Resistance members cooped up in the camp. They had both been administration buildings that were used to screen suspicious travellers, and when it came to defensibility they didn't have much to offer. Vulpes easily deduced that he wouldn't even need a single squad to take the entire place, but he wasn't supposed to be efficient for this one – that was work for when he needed to use subterfuge. This time, he intended to be seen – he wanted to make a good first impression, after all.

He called forth the decanus under his command as he orchestrated what he believed would be one of his better numbers.

"Are you all aware of what you need to do?" he asked in his perpetually calm voice.

"A simple enough strategy," replied one of them. "Assault the camp. Kill any who try to resist, and-"

"No, no, no," interjected Vulpes. "I want them alive. Killing should only be a last resort in this instance. Shoot to injure, if possible. If you must, use your fists to subdue them. Bodies serve will serve little purpose for what we are about to do. Such a strategy worked at Nipton, but that was a work of brute force – frighteningly easy to do." He smiled coyly. "No, for this we have to be more subtle. Attack their hearts and minds and leave them to despair. Get them alive but do not harm them to the point where they as well be dead. Do you understand?"

"Indeed," replied the decanus. "It will be a most splendid sight to see these Profligates break. Many of the new legionnaires have heard stories about you, and they do not yet give you as much respect as they should. Hopefully this little excursion of ours will show them what the Legion is capable of. The rebels must be put in their place, I must say."

Vulpes agreed. "You serve the Legion well, Cassius. Once this is done, I will see what I can do to help you further along that path. For now, though, we must focus on the task at hand."

"Thank you, dominus," replied Cassius. "What are your orders?"

"We wait," replied Vulpes. He peered through his binocluars as he watched the guards standing sentry on top of the abandoned building. Two of his undercover agents slipped behind them as they drew their hidden knives, and with graceful movements slit the throats of the sentries. They never even had time to react. The agents quickly pulled the dead bodies back to prevent them from being seen by those milling about below, and stole their weapons as they gave a hand signal to Vulpes.

Vulpes looked at Cassius and nodded. "It is time."

The decanus grinned as he turned to his legionnaires. "_Storm the camp_!" he shouted. "Subdue these Profligates, but avoid killing them unless absolutely necessary. If you break this order, you will be sentenced to crucifixion, understood?"

The legionnaires barked in agreement at him as they ran towards the camp in tight formation. There were screams and shouts of terror heard among the Profligates as they scurried toward the buildings to hide, waiting for the sentries who had been put out of commission to save them. In response, the Frumentarii on top of the building took aim with their rifles and shot the legs out of several of them, leaving them to cry out in agony as they were left hopelessly immobile.

Cassius fired his rifle in the air as he looked at those that remained outside. "_Kneel!_" he shouted. Most of them obeyed quickly once they saw that their guardians weren't there to help them. He looked at the three buildings and turned to his legionnaires, ordering them into three columns. He turned again to look at the buildings once more, ordering the columns to storm them.

They followed the order without hesitation as they kicked in the doors. There were more screams heard, and more gunshots. The legionnaires brutalized anyone who tried to resist, beating them to a bloody pulp until they were subdued. Some of them tried to run, but Vulpes' agents, dutiful as always, prevented them by way of more crippling shots.

The decanus then ordered his legionnaires the force the profligates out of their hiding spots, corralling them in the intersection between the buildings. The profligates saw that there was no hope for them and eventually stopped trying to flee. There were others that tried to hide themselves, but they were found easily and were corralled back into the group.

Vulpes stood in front of them, eyeing each one carefully as he took note of their reactions. Terror, he saw, was as common as ever. Such a reaction was old and tiresome. He sought to call for something deeper, a primal fear that lurked somewhere in the murky depths of the human mind. Now was the perfect opportunity to elicit that feeling. He gave the ghost of a smile as he watched the vermin arrayed before him. He would enjoy this.

"Where is your leader?" he asked. There was no response. He took the automatic pistol of one of the legionnaires and fired a burst into the air. The group – around thirty of them in all, flinched collectively.

"I will not ask again," he said. "Come forth and face your fate. If you do not comply, then you and your followers will not even be granted the mercy of a quick death. I won't bore you with the details of what will be done to you, but by the end of it you will beg to be put out of your misery."

They seemed to get the gist of it. They looked at each other as a woman with short brown hair stood up, clothed in a makeshift doctor's coat that had been haphazardly stitched together from Brahmin and gecko skin. "I'm the one you want," she said.

Vulpes stared at her stoically as he eyed her up and down. He tossed the pistol back to the legionnaire. "Please don't try to hesitate," he said. "It will only make things worse. What do they call you?"

"Doctor Janet Fraiser," she replied. Vulpes could tell that behind her façade of emotionless resistance she was trying to hide the abject terror present in her followers. "I-"

"I only asked for your name," interjected Vulpes. "No more than that. This will be the last time that you will say it. For your sins, you and your followers will be made examples of. You are all property of the Legion now, as you should be. Do not hope for a quick death, because it will never come. Don't bother trying to call for help, because it will never come. You will be crucified as the first message to the others of your kind."

He looked at Cassius and nodded as he continued. "You have all been victims of degeneracy, of the profligate teachings. Were I forgiving, I would have simply sent you to be re-educated and sent back into the light of Caesar's teaching. Forgiveness is a trait of weakness, however. You can expect no such thing from me."

He waved his hand and pointed to the doctor. "Crucify her," he commanded. "Strip and chain the rest. We have much to do."

-=(O)=-

"I don't think it'll work," said Arcade Gannon. "ARCHIMEDES is a fire support weapon – artillery for surface targets. Turning it to space and firing it at some alien mothership isn't exactly its intended function. On top of that, I don't think it has enough power to even pierce through their hulls. I mean, come on. You've seen the size of Ra's ship and studied it before House booted you out. Surely you're not unaware of its capabilities?"

"I am," replied Veronica. She pulled out a little notepad and tossed it on the desk. "And it's Veronica, not Shirley." She flipped the notebook open to reveal a series of equations that looked like they were scribbled by a five year old high on caffeine trying to fit in as many doodles as possible. "I think I can fiddle with the targeting system and increase its power output. It's going to take some time, though, and I mean _a lot _of time. This isn't something I can do in three hours like Six did after she told us that weird story about her brain."

Arcade studied the notebook. He couldn't make sense of Veronica's handwriting and sighed. "Look, Veronica, I know you're good at what you do but this is pushing it a little bit too far, don't you think? I mean, you're trying to reverse-engineer a very complex, very intricate Pre-War system here to do something it was never intended to do."

Veronica smirked at him and put up her hands. "It's just HELIOS One, doc. How hard can it be?"

Outside the room, a patrol of Securitrons went past Daniel and Teal'c who were on their way to the briefing room. Daniel had been briefed on the mission and he was less than enthusiastic about going out to finally see the shattered remains of the world.

"You know, I've never been _outside_ the facility before," he said. "So forgive me if I'm a little worried about radiation, mutants, and everything else that those two loved to talk about."

"I am sure that you will be in safe hands, Daniel Jackson. Doctor Gannon and Veronica Santangelo have proven themselves to be capable warriors."

"Yes, I know, but still. There's the concern about radiation, and all those diseases that might have sprouted up. My immune system's not really at its best when I encounter new environments, you know?"

"I do not, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel looked at him and blinked. "Right, of course.. Symbiote. Look, my point is that even though I have you and those two to protect me, I might end up biting it to something completely mundane. I mean, the Incas were defeated by smallpox and measles, not by the Conquistador's guns. The same situation kind of applies here."

Teal'c just tilted his head and raised his eyebrow. "What is an Inca?"

"It's an ancient civilization that… uh, you know what, nevermind. We're here."

They entered the briefing room and sat down across from Paladin Ramos and Martouf. Ramos nodded at Teal'c. The jaffa returned the gesture accordingly.

"I trust you two know what you're about to do?" asked Ramos.

"As much as you've told me five times already?" replied Daniel. "Yes, I believe I do."

"Indeed," concurred Teal'c.

Ramos flipped open the folder in front of him as he inspected the files. "Well, the Wasteland's a harsh place, but I'm sure you two can manage. As I understand it, Teal'c, radiation isn't a concern for you?"

"It is not," he replied. "Neither is disease."

"Good, that just leaves you, Doctor Jackson."

"I'm getting too old for this, you know," said Daniel. "You've been briefed on my medical conditions, right?"

"Yes," said Ramos. "Nothing that a few Stimpaks can't fix. I understand your concern about radiation, but I can assure you that it's totally safe out there. In any case, as long as your exposure isn't too severe you can prevent it from getting too bad with a few RadAways."

"I see."

"Moving on… For the mission, you and the rest of SG-1 will be lifted by vertibird straight to HELIOS One. We don't expect to encounter any resistance on the way but you're still expected to be on your guard. However, we have to inform you about a change of plans."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Daniel.

Ramos looked at Martouf and motioned for him to continue.

Lantash spoke. "You will not be going with Veronica and Doctor Gannon to this facility. You are both proficient in the Goa'uld language, correct?"

Teal'c nodded.

"Kind of," said Daniel. "I mean, I can make out individual words but it takes me a while to form complete sentences and phrases."

"It will be good enough," continued Lantash. "Apophis may be launching his ship sooner than expected. You will have to go to his staging area and disrupt the deployment of his vessel in any way you can. Our agents will offer you what aid they can, but expect it to be extremely limited."

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, I've kind of noticed that to be a running theme with you guys, but moving on. Are you expecting us two to assault an entire mothership all by ourselves?"

"Not entirely," replied Ramos. "You'll have an attaché of two squads to cover you. Stealth is paramount in this operation, so you'll have to be discreet. You leave combat up to the squads – your main objective is to disable the mothership in any way you can. Teal'c, you're familiar with the operation of such a vessel, correct?"

"Indeed," he said. "I am familiar with the operation of a _ha'tak _vessel, but there are many differences between the ships of each Goa'uld. Although I am familiar with the operation of some of Apophis's ships, I understand that this one is made of new technology. In addition, I am not qualified to pilot a _ha'tak _myself – my qualifications extend only to death gliders and _tel'taks_."

"Right. Do you know how to disable one, at least?"

"I believe so."

"That's good, then. We'll need all the help we can get if we want to stop this thing from getting here. Veronica and Doctor Gannon will do the best they can to calibrate ARCHIMEDES. Let's hope that the time you buy us will be enough. Dismissed."

With the meeting done, Daniel and Teal'c made their way over to the room where they'd seen Veronica and Arcade earlier, but they'd already gone elsewhere. Teal'c, eager to learn more about Wastelander culture, headed over to the recreation levels where he socialized with some of the Brotherhood members on their off time. Although they mistrusted him at first, they eventually got used to his presence. Some of them had even considered him a friend.

Daniel, finding himself in the need to distract himself from the world's impending doom, headed over to the Stargate control room where he made small talk with the scribe manning the main station. Ibsen was off today. He peered past the blast window and saw that the gate was active. House's robots had been shuttling cargo back and forth to Abydos and a few other planets, and nobody knew why. Everyone knew he was up to something big, but there were only rumours as to what exactly that plan was.

After this batch of cargo was sent through, Daniel went with a bunch of scribes over to Abydos where he would be teaching another lecture in the next few hours. He made his way to Schuler's office to discuss her progress with the artefacts they'd recovered from Ra's mothership.

The pyramid had gone through substantial renovations after the Brotherhood made the decision to begin constructions projects on Abydos. The settlement around the pyramid had grown into a proper town in its own right after the Abydonians started moving there, and more than a few members had made it their permanent residence. With talk of Earth being under risk from alien attack, it became an enticing offer for a lot of people to change the planet they called "home".

To this end, McNamara started poking around the idea of establishing some mining and manufacturing facilities on Abydos in order to finally establish an industrial base that the Brotherhood could work off of. Although there was enthusiastic support for the idea, especially from the knights who were eager to work with the naquadah, there wasn't much he could do to get the project going without the equipment or the personnel to make it work.

Daniel knocked on the transplanted Vault-Tec door outside Schuler's office. The door opened and she waved him in.

"Morning, Linda," he said. "What's new today?"

"Not much," she replied. She looked up from her clipboard and smiled at Daniel. "Watkins found another tablet hidden in one of the rooms. You should go take a look at it if you have the time. Based on what we could translate so far, Ra experimented with a piece of time-altering technology before he came here. It said something about a 'temple of the sun'. Do you know anything about that?"

"Sort of," he replied. "There were several temples recorded in history that were dedicated to the worship of Ra. I'll try to take a look at this tablet when I have the time, but based on the context of the statement, I'm guessing it would be Heliopolis."

"Heliopolis?"

"Oh, uh, it's an Ancient Egyptian city. People would gather from everywhere to visit it on pilgrimages. It was a centre of scholars and academics, and the central place of worship for Ra. This is fascinating stuff. It's too bad I have other priorities, though."

Schuler nodded at him blankly as she continued scribbling on her clipboard. "Saving the world?"

"Yep."

"Good luck with that."

"I was hoping for that. Oh, are Arcade and Veronica around here?"

Schuler shrugged. "If they are, I haven't seen them. They're probably in the facility trying to do one of their things again. Don't get me wrong, they're good people but they can be real assholes sometimes."

"Right, I see. Well, thanks for taking the time to talk to me."

"You started it," she replied.

On his way back to the Stargate room, Daniel noticed beeping sounds behind him. He turned around to see a floating Eyebot. He eyed it carefully and noticed that it was rather different. It seemed to look at him curiously and started floating around him. He saw that it had a sticker attached to its side that said "My child is an Honor Student at Roosevelt Academy." The other side had a license plate of on it that seemed to have been issued in Illinois.

He watched as it floated about. "Okay, this is weird."

"ED-E," said a woman's voice behind him. "Stop playing around. Get back here."

The Eyebot seemed to be disappointed, as much as a robot can express such an emotion. He turned to look at the person who said that, but apparently she was gone and so was the robot. He scratched his head in confusion before he walked on to his lecture.

-=(O)=-

SG-3 and the squad of soldiers led by Marine Captain Wilhelmina Brasker came upon the westernmost segment of the Resistance against the Legion. They managed to take a Legion outpost that had been one of the first to rebel, and although they put up a good fight they eventually fell to constant harassment and hit-and-run attacks. The flag of the United States stood draped over a defaced Legion banner that imposed itself over the outpost's walls; a symbol of defiance that delivered a message of hope for those who wanted to bring the Old World back.

Each Resistance cell was isolated from each other, save for sporadic radio contacts relayed through their central command in Arizona. It would often take days and weeks for news to travel between them, and with most of the radio equipment having already been salvaged or destroyed in Legion territory the situation likely wouldn't be resolved any time soon.

They stood in front of the gates as the captain yelled out to the sentry manning the watchtower. He appeared to be asleep with a two hundred year old dirty magazine covering his face. "_Hey, you there_! What are you doing napping around? This isn't a fucking nursery, corporal!"

The sentry, startled, fumbled himself out sleep as he hastily hid the magazine and looked down at the group. "Oh, uh," he stammered. "Sorry ma'am!"

He started rolling the winch for the scrap-metal gate as it was lifted open, revealing a series of buildings that had once been home to an administrative corporation of some sort. Its logo was still visible on the faded concrete walls, but only barely. Most of it had been painted over with Legion symbols, which had in turn been painted over with either vulgar drawings or patriotic ones.

As SG-3 walked through the outpost, they received leers from several of its inhabitants. Compared to the other cells, this one was composed mostly of unfrozen popsicles as opposed to free slaves. The looks didn't last long, though. Once they saw who accompanied them they went back to their business.

"All right, guys," said Brasker. "You guys take a rest. I'll lead these guys over to see the head honcho."

"Understood," replied Sergeant Alicia Vega. She turned around and went to a building which had the crude symbol of a beer mug painted on its door. Lieutenant Hailey followed suit. The sniper, whom Leibowitz hadn't really gotten to know, just grunted as he headed to what the paladin assumed to be the residential area.

The marine led them to a two-story building and climbed up a pair of stairs to the second floor, where a faded blue door was waiting for them. She opened it and walked inside, beckoning the others to follow. Once all of them were in, she closed the door behind her out of courtesy.

They came into an old office the Legion had used as the administrative hub of the outpost, and like the rest of it, it was converted into a shrine of the Old World. The flag of the Bull on the wall in front of them was crossed with a red "X", and in front of it sat a short-haired woman who wore the recolored and modified uniform taken from a Desert Ranger. The coat was draped over her chair and the helmet was nowhere in sight. She looked at Brasker and the squad, raising her eyebrow.

"Doctor Weir," said the captain. "I'd like to introduce you to Michael Leibowitz, Robert Steakley, and Anita O'Neill. They say they're from the West. And from what I've seen, they ain't lyin'."

Weir looked at her and nodded. "Thank you, captain. You can leave us alone now."

"Right," she said. She gave Weir a salute and walked out of the room.

Weir motioned to the chairs in front of her desk and motioned to one of them. "Please, take a seat."

There were only two seats. Leibowitz looked at the other two squad members and nodded at them. "I can stand. You two go ahead."

They nodded as they took their seats.

Weir eyed the three of them carefully, Leibowitz in particular. She took a glance at his left eye and stopped slouching in her seat, her interest piqued. "The West, huh?"

"Well, I am," said O'Neill. "The others come from the Capital Wasteland, way east."

"Capital Wasteland?" asked Weir.

"Oh, right. Uh, it's what we call Washington now."

"Ah," said Weir. "I suspected as much. They probably would have made that one of their main priorities when they bombed the country to hell and back. I'm getting ahead of myself, though. I haven't introduced myself. Doctor Elizabeth Weir at your service."

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor Weir," said Leibowitz. He drew back his hood and smiled at her. "It's a pleasure to meet decent people out here."

"Pleasure's all mine, Leibowitz, was it?"

He nodded.

"Right. Well, I suppose you want to learn about our situation. We're seriously lacking in information on the world out there, and we aren't getting anything helpful from the legionnaires or the slaves. Let's hope you're more informed than they are."

"Yes," he replied. "In fact, that's exactly what we're here for."

-=(O)=-

The morning sun hid behind the mountains on the horizon as Veronica and Arcade stepped out of the facility to begin their preparations. Remnants of the cold night air still lingered in the desert, and the sun still hadn't entered its hottest stage yet. This was normally the time of day that Veronica used to get some fresh air and alone time away from the facility, but right now she couldn't afford that luxury. She had a world to save.

"You think Daniel and Teal'c can handle themselves?" asked Veronica. They stood in front of the vertibird which the Capital Wasteland brothers had authorized use for in this particular mission. "I worry for them, y'know? I still owe Teal'c a few sparring sessions and if he dies that's a debt that I can't really collect on."

"They can handle themselves," replied Arcade. "If it comes to the worst case scenario, let's hope that they manage to help us save the world before they bite the dust."

Veronica bit her lip. "I hope so. I mean, without me there to punch things, who's going to do it?"

"One of the paladins with them, probably. And Teal'c's not a bad combatant himself."

"They're weaklings."

"If you say so."

Veronica harrumphed. She looked at two knights who were hauling some of her special cargo into the vertibird. "Hey, hurry it up you slackjaws. My mom could lift faster than you, and she's dead."

"Are you sure that this plan of yours will work, Veronica?" asked Arcade sceptically. "This is the longest shot you've ever taken and you barely have any experience with-"

Veronica interrupted him. "Hey, you're talking to the girl who helped Six build a displacer glove out of spare toaster parts and gecko leather. I may get the equations all wrong from time to time but what matters is that I make it _work._"

"That doesn't exactly inspire any confidence."

"Still," insisted Veronica. "Give me _some _credit. I mean, come on. Those orbital lasers punch through an atmosphere's worth of resistance before they obliterate everything they touch. Without that in the way, they'll be a lot more powerful, even against a giant alien spaceship. You of all people should be aware of penetrational power."

"_If_ you can get them to work in the first place," retorted Arcade, ignoring her last remark.

The knights gave her a thumbs up as the cargo was loaded into the vehicle. The pilot took out her hand radio and spoke into it, interrupting Veronica. "You guys ready?"

Arcade peeked his head into the pilot compartment and nodded. "Just give us a few seconds to wrap things up."

"All righty," replied the pilot.

They watched McNamara, Ramos, and Rothchild come out of the facility to send them away. McNamara was carrying some sort of lead-lined box with him, which Veronica took to be a signal that whatever was inside would be extremely important.

McNamara handed the case over to her. It was surprisingly light given the size of the container, but until she discovered the contents she couldn't find out why. She moved to open it and found some a little stone resting in a bed of foam. It looked like a rounded pentagon that had part of its bottom half cut off, and a rough blue depression ran diagonally through its surface. She didn't know what to make of it.

"What's this?" she asked, looking at McNamara curiously.

"A long-range communication device," he replied. "The Tok'ra will send you a message using it if the ships come near. Until you get an all clear signal from them, it's best to assume that the ships are on its way. If you manage to connect this to the HELIOS One mainframe, the Tok'ra will relay what orbital data they can once the ships arrive. There's some data translation work involved, but you should be able to make it compatible given a few days' work. I'm sure you're well aware of the pressures you're being put through, so I won't tell you how important that you get ARCHIMEDES to do what you need it to do."

Veronica closed the box and held it by her side. She stepped into the vertibird's personnel compartment and smiled at them. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Good luck, Veronica," said Ramos.

"We're all counting on you," said Rothchild.

She gave them a wave as she took a seat inside the vehicle next to Arcade. "I'll do my best."

With that, the ramp started close as they walked away. Arcade gave the knight piloting the bird a thumbs-up as she started fiddling with the control panel in front of her. The co-pilot looked at them and cleared his throat.

"So," he said. "First time flying?"

Arcade shook his head. "Not exactly."

"Yep," said Veronica. She looked out of the window as the blades started to rotate. "This'll be fun!"

"Right," said the co-pilot. He nodded at the pilot next to him as she started the ascent.

"In the air in three," she declared. "Destination, the Mojave Wasteland. We headed straight through or do you need to make a couple of stops?"

"The sooner we get there, the better," said Arcade. "Straight through."

The pilot nodded. "Got it."

The vertibird's ascent was smooth, as far as aircraft went. Veronica gazed out of the window, transfixed with the sights outside as the Groom Lake base became smaller and more distant. She'd been on top of high places before, especially in the Lucky 38, but never quite like this. The way the terrain moved below the narrow viewing holes embedded in the wall gave her a sense of childlike wonderment.

Arcade noticed this and looked down his own viewport. He'd been in one before, he knew. The memory of Hoover Dam was fresh in his mind. Although he'd never really considered himself a violent person before that, and the acts he committed that day gave him a sense of pride and terror. He was proud of what he'd done against the Legion and for what remained of his father's legacy, and terrified of the person he could be when he was given a weapon.

He gave that some thought and reflected on his actions. His travels with the Courier had desensitized him to violence, although he was already used to such sights when he took up the oath to become a Follower. He found it silly that he was worrying about himself considering what he'd done, especially after an extended period of time interacting with Six. He'd killed, mutilated, and tortured a lot of people while he was with her, and throughout all of that he didn't feel a goddamn thing. No pity, no remorse, no regret. With her, any of his doubts were dispelled when she told him it was simply the right thing to do.

She influenced him more than he'd like to admit. She'd influenced all of them like that. Veronica, Cass, Raul, and the rest. In one way or another, they were all changed. She just had a knack for influencing people, and whenever she wanted something done, it would be done by any means necessary. In the end, though, there was only so much a person could take. The overwhelming pressure put on her as the "Saviour of the Wasteland" led her to a series of decisions that eventually isolated her from the people she'd gotten close to.

Arcade wondered if there was anything he could have done to prevent it from happening, but the past was in the past. He knew that the Courier was working as House's most trusted lieutenant, and that he couldn't blame her for choosing a path like that. She was involved in the Stargate program somehow, he knew, but he couldn't really figure out what she was doing. He hoped that she was doing something to help them, even if it was from the shadows. He ended the train of thought on that optimistic note as he began to talk to Veronica.

"How's your first flight so far?"

Veronica stopped peeking out of the window and blinked at Arcade. She beamed at him and just said "Awesome." She sighed sentimentally. "I can't believe I didn't hitch a ride on one of the back-and-forth trips when they still operated these things regularly. I would have loved to see that Citadel and maybe practice my Super Mutant punching skills. It's been a while since I caved a brutish green face in with Pushy."

"You're taking it well. If you want a bit of advice when it comes to bird-riding, don't get sick. It's bad luck to puke out of an aircraft window."

"I'll keep that in mind. Now if you'll excuse me, I think it's time for me to get some of the rest I missed. I was supposed to wake up later after the fun I had in Abydos last night, but Ramos just had to insist on punctuality."

She sighed again and started slouching in her seat. She slid off her coat and put it on the chair next to her, nodding to Arcade. "Wake me up when we get there."

She closed her eyes and crossed her arms as she fell into what she thought was a light nap.

…

She woke up an hour later to the feeling of Arcade vigorously shaking her shoulder.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, snapping his fingers in front of her. "We're here. Get up."

Veronica groggily opened her eyes and blinked. The ramp was open and she saw Old Lady Gibson's scrapyard. Her dogs were circling the vehicle as Gibson herself remained inside the building, fearing for her life. She still held memories of the years when the Enclave roamed the skies, and she was hesitant to trust anyone who came in riding one. Her doors were locked and her garage door sealed tight as a precaution.

The two pilots were just sitting in their seats, taking a couple of packed lunches. They were talking about gossip back in the facility.

Veronica sat up and reached for her coat. She fumbled for a few moments before she managed to put it on. "Dogs?" she asked.

"We're some distance away from Novac. HELIOS One should just be a fifteen minute walk-"

"Yeah, I know where we are," she interjected. She picked up the communicator box and her big glove box. She attached the latter to her back as she always did. "So do we just walk in?"

Arcade stepped down the ramp as he tossed a piece of Cram to one of the dogs he'd recognized when he was travelling with Six. Although he only knew Rey's name since it was the brain Six decided to put into Rex, he recognized the others well enough. "Yep," he said. "Ignacio is an old friend of mine. I sent him a message ahead of time by way of the Mojave Express."

Veronica squinted at him. "I see," she commented. She stood up and stepped out of the ramp, pushing some of the dogs out of her way as they begged her for food. She looked at HELIOS One in the distance and began walking towards it. She looked at Arcade as she did so and tugged her head in the direction of the facility. He followed.

When they came in sight of the doors, they noticed that the NCR guard post that had been guarding the facility the last time they came here was replaced by a contingent of House's Securitrons. One of them rolled over to the duo as its face shifted into that of Victor's.

"Oh geez," cursed Veronica. "It's _him_."

"Well, howdy pardners!" greeted the robot in his synthetic southern accent. "The Boss was kind enough ta' clear the way for you fine folks to do what ya need ta do. If y'all need any help, the scientists workin' on the project are ready to assist ya."

"Right," murmured Arcade. "What happened to the normal garrison here?"

"Oh, they're just fine," replied Victor. "Their reassignment took a li'l, uh, how'd you put it… persuasion, 'fore the Boss could let ya do your work. If you're worryin' about violence, then you can be rest assured that there ain't none of that doohinckle here."

"I see…" said Veronica, drawing out the pause. "Thanks, I guess."

"Aw, shucks, Veronica. You're too kind."

Veronica glared at him. "Don't call me that," she spat. "Come on, doc. We have work to do."

"If you don't mind, I'll just take a little detour over to talk to Ignacio," he said, turning to Victor. "He's still here?"

"Ah presume you're talkin' about Doc Rivas. Yeah, he's still here and he's fit as a fiddle."

Without a word, Arcade walked past the Securitrons and entered the facility. Veronica followed his example and headed straight to the station's control tower to begin reprogramming the computers. She figured she had two weeks to do this. The fate of the world rested on her shoulders, as she'd been told a million times already. _Well, Veronica_, she thought. _Let's see you put your magic into action._

-=(O)=-

They had three days left before Apophis launched his ships.

Without much in the way of options save for Veronica's long shot, the Brotherhood decided to go all or nothing. They were to mount their first full scale operation against the Goa'uld. McNamara and Rothchild hadn't heard from House and it seemed that he was not going to help in this operation. They would be on their own, but this time they would be ready. The plan was to perform a surgical strike against Apophis's motherships and settle this once and for all while they still had the chance.

For this operation, Rothchild had requested that some squads be sent over from the Citadel to aid in the operation. The Elder there felt that the situation was dire enough to warrant the intervention of Lyons' Pride. If Daniel and Teal'c couldn't find out a way to disable the motherships in time, the Brotherhood would have to force their way in. Even if Daniel and Teal'c did find some way to disable them, though, they would take it anyway just to ensure the acquisition of an extremely valuable technological asset. They were aware of the Goa'uld's combat capabilities after several skirmishes with them, and with the help of SG-1 and SG-3's research they were able to reinforce their armour to better protect against plasma blasts and zat'nik'tell fire.

Daniel protested the plan heavily, but he had no other choice since he had no say in the matter. He knew the stakes well enough, but the thought of an outright military action didn't sit right with him. The Brotherhood and focused on its primary mission. McNamara and his allies may have broken the Codex but it was still their primary mission to obtain and exploit new technologies for the benefit of mankind. To that end, they informed the Tok'ra of their plan. Jolinar and Martouf agreed, although the choice wasn't theirs. The Tok'ra High Council felt that the benefits far outweighed the risks, especially so if the System Lords decided to divert their resources away from hunting the Tok'ra in order to strike back against Earth. They didn't reveal this information to McNamara.

"Louder, you maggots!" shouted one of the paladins, whom Rothchild introduced as Gunny. He was clad in Tesla armour and carried his helmet under his shoulder. A squad of knights were assembled in front of him. "We managed to kick the asses of both the Enclave and the Super Mutants. What more would a bunch of glorified alien raiders be?"

"_Nothing!"_ replied the knights in unison. Most of them were clad in T-45d power armour that had been hastily modified with Veronica's power system improvements. The Pride looked at them and shook their heads in varying ways, some of them almost literally. Although they admired the enthusiasm, the members of Lyons' Pride were shaped to be a bit more reserved when it came to such things. These knights were looking for something to prove, whereas the Pride had already proven themselves many times over.

The gate room bustled with activity as the squads assembled themselves in front of the gate. Several of the Mojave personnel stood guard in front of the ramp to prevent anyone from getting to close to the event horizon in case the gate was activated. The figures clad in power armour stood shoulder to shoulder with their weapons held in front of them, arranged into columns according to their rank. Lyons' Pride stood front and center with their naquadah-enhanced Hellfire armour, Daniel and Teal'c standing by their side. They were going to be performing special operations for this mission, along with another squad that stood at the opposite side of the Pride. The other squad was composed of Knight-Captain Gallows and Scribe Corrick. Gallows had been chosen for this affinity when it came to spec ops and Corrick for his experience with the Goa'uld. Others would have been chosen for the task but with SG-3 absent he was the only one the Brotherhood could call upon on such short notice.

Elder McNamara and Senior Scribe Rothchild stood in front of the formation, facing them as they began their address.

"Today we stand on the precipice of what may be our greatest battle yet. We are about to face an enemy older than what remains of our recorded history, and the odds are stacked against us. However, the fate of the world hangs in the balance, and we have two choices." He held up his hand and curled it into a fist. He raised his index finger. "We either fight," he raised a second finger. "Or we die. What do you choose?"

"_Fight!_" shouted the Brotherhood. Although many of them had not experienced the alien threat for themselves, the Elder's words had enough conviction in them to convince them that they had to do something. Satisfied with their response, McNamara stepped down from the ramp as he let Rothchild continue the speech. He only said two words.

"Good luck."

With that, he stepped down as Ibsen began the activation sequence. The company, as one, moved to put on their helmets. Some of the newcomers were unnerved by the spinning of the gate as its chevrons were locked in, but the helmets they wore gave no hint of their emotions. As was the custom, Ibsen and the scribes manning the control station sent through an Eyebot to survey the area before they went through.

The robot's telemetry showed that the gate led to a clearing of a grasslands environment. In the horizon they could see the silhouettes of two pyramid-like objects – no doubt the motherships. As it headed over there the robot recorded several groups of Apophis's servants that were on their way to the Stargate, along with several jaffa that eventually destroyed it. Once they'd analysed this information, the scribes sent an all-clear signal.

"Hostile environment detected," declared Ibsen over the intercom. "Prepare to face heavy resistance."

Daniel and Teal'c looked at each other as Lyons' Pride and the other specialist squad led the way. They led a radio transmission that signalled the area around the gate was clear for them to proceed. They stepped through the gate in an orderly fashion, returning to formation once on the other side.

The planet's sun was already setting when they arrived, and by the time they'd managed to set up a forward operating base around the Stargate it was already dark. The jaffa hadn't bothered them yet except for several patrols that were quickly butchered before they could relay any information back to the ships. The Brotherhood brought in several mechanized units composed of Sentrybots, Mister Gutsies, and Protectrons that would act as screen against initial resistance before the assault began. They figured that it was only a matter of time before Apophis caught on to what was going on.

The two squads presented themselves in front of Lyons' Pride as they were briefed on what was about to go down. They were bathed in blue light from flashers mounted on the pauldrons of their armour.

"We'll hold this position until you two head over to the Big Wasteland in the Sky or succeed in your mission," declared Paladin Vargas. "Either way, if either of you don't report within two hours we'll proceed with the assault. Are we clear?"

"Understood," replied Gallows.

"Indeed," replied Teal'c.

"We'll keep in contact with you through your radios. Don't use it unless it's extremely important."

Gallows just nodded as he turned around and headed to the mothership they were assigned to sabotage. Daniel and Teal'c followed them. They were garbed in disguises that they hoped wouldn't arouse suspicion once they reached the starship staging sites. Daniel had his usual old-man and robe look about him, and Teal'c had his old jaffa armour with the broken serpent helmet. Gallows didn't bother with blending in as he had a stealth suit with him, and Corrick followed Daniel's example, using the disguise he wore back on Abydos before the attack against Ra.

The two squads gave each other their farewells as they split up towards their respective ships. They had managed to enter the outskirts of the staging area where _tel'tak_ cargo vessels shipped cargo back and forth to augment Apophis's forces. He was amassing an army, and it showed. There was a large camp spread out in front of the motherships. They could see jaffa performing a variety of training exercises, from firing staff blasts at target dummies to marching in formation side by side. Servants came and went from the ring platforms as they carried the supplies and weapons into the ships from the cargo vessels.

Gallows activated his stealth suit and vanished into thin air with only a blurry outline surrounding him that made him completely invisible in the darkness of the night. Corrick blinked for a few moments before he started heading over to the ship on the right. Once they were gone, Teal'c activated his serpent guard helmet and stood behind Daniel, who used his hood to cover himself.

"Aren't we supposed to meet with the Tok'ra around here?" asked Daniel.

"I believe that they have already evacuated their agents," replied Teal'c. "They are aware of the risks that this strike presents to them."

"Oh, right."

"We must continue. Time is of the essence."

With that, Teal'c pretended to shepherd Daniel over to one of the cargo vessels. He nonchalantly picked up a staff that had been left behind by one of Apophis's priests and began walking over to the ring platform with Teal'c escorting him. He caught a ride with a group of jaffa who went up into the ship and broke off from them once they reached the hallway outside the ring room.

"Where do we go from here?" asked Daniel.

"We must first disable the shields," proposed Teal'c.

"And how exactly are we going to do that?"

Teal'c looked around as he another squadron of jaffa strolled past him. There were four of them and they seemed to be carrying some sort of casket with hieroglyphic markings on them. Teal'c looked to Daniel and nodded as they shadowed the group of serpent guards. "We must enter the control room," said Teal'c. We should be able to inflict the most damage there."

"Sounds like a plan."

They headed through the corridors without much incident and after a few false starts they managed to locate the control room. It was a large thing that seemed to branch out into several other rooms. It was the very definition of busy as servants scurried back and forth between the rooms carrying racks of control crystals and other related items. There were several technicians working inside to get all of the systems operational, most of them were rather absorbed in their work and didn't even notice the two newcomers. Seeing this as an advantage, Teal'c immediately rushed over to one of the rooms containing racks of empty consoles and deactivated his helmet with a hiss, handing it over to Daniel who stood behind him.

"Uh, what are you doing?" he asked. "We'll get discovered."

"In a moment, Daniel Jackson," replied the jaffa. "I am searching for information."

Daniel blinked as he tried to hand the helmet back to Teal'c. "Are you insane? We'll get discovered!"

"I am almost done, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel glanced back to the entrance of the control room and saw a group of jaffa pass right through it, followed a few seconds later by another group. This continued on while he watched. "Well, yeah, you better hurry. It looks like they're sending in all of the soldiers."

Teal'c took the helmet back as soon as he was done fiddling with the control panel. He put it on once more and tugged on Daniel's sleeve, beckoning him to follow.

"Uh, where are we going?"

"We must first disable the shields," he said. "The central control systems should be nearby. If we take out the correct control crystals we may be able to disable them permanently."

He and Daniel headed on to one of the rooms inside the central control chamber, locating a large pillar containing several symbols and stone buttons. The room itself was sparsely populated, containing only a few Goa'uld technicians that like the others were too focused on their work. Daniel closed the door as Teal'c took out his zat and knocked out what few personnel were in the station before they could figure out what was going on. Teal'c motioned his head towards the pillar. "Open them," he said.

Daniel headed over to the central pillar as he pushed what he assumed to be the release buttons at the lower top of the pillar, opening as many as he could. A moment later the racks sprang out, revealing a series of crystals arranged in a manner that Daniel couldn't make any sense of. He turned to Teal'c.

"So," said Daniel. "Which one of these is the 'shields' part?"

Teal'c handed his zat over to Daniel as he took out his staff weapon. He energized its tip as he circled the pillar. "I do not know," he said. "But if we-"

Daniel knew what he was planning. He interjected the jaffa before he could continue. "Uh, that's not a very good idea. For all we know, we could be taking out life support or something."

"Do you have a better plan, Daniel Jackson?"

"Well, not exactly, but-"

Teal'c didn't wait for the doctor's answer. He pointed his staff weapon at one of the control racks and let loose, shattering the crystals and leaving behind a blackened char on the surface of the pillar. The ship's alarm began to blare throughout its levels as Teal'c took aim at another rack and destroyed it. The doors opened to reveal a group of jaffa that had their staff weapons raised at the two.

Daniel glared at Teal'c and raised his hands, putting them behind his head. Teal'c turned to the jaffa and aimed his weapon at them immediately. The Serpent Guards stood ready to fire before their leader raised his hand. "Hold, "he declared.

Teal'c, puzzled, turned to Daniel and raised his eyebrow. Daniel just shrugged as he continued to hold his position of surrender. Teal'c turned back to the jaffa. "Why have you not engaged in combat yet?" he asked.

"Teal'c?" asked the lead jaffa, taking off his serpent helmet as he motioned for the others to lower their weapons. They begrudgingly followed his order, and in turn Teal'c respected the gesture. He recognized his old friend and smiled despite the inevitable retaliation that would no doubt accompany the alarm.

"_Tek mal tiak, _Master Bra'tac," said Teal'c. "I have-"

"You _fool!"_ replied the old jaffa. "What are you doing here? You've been declared _shol'va!_ Surely Apophis will-"

"I have come to fight for our freedom," said Teal'c. "I have made pledged my allegiance to a group who claim to come from the _Tau'ri_. They have the technology and power to aid us in our struggle."

"I am well aware of that," said Bra'tac. He dismissed the other jaffa as he beckoned for the duo to follow. "Come, you must hide before you are discovered. More guards will be here soon."

Bra'tac hurriedly led them to one of the lower levels of the ship, taking advantage of the chaos caused by the alarm. They were inside one of the cargo hangars where a _tel'tak_ stood waiting. Most of the cargo had been unpacked and cleared out earlier, which left only the ship to be used in case of emergencies. Bra'tac closed the door behind them as he looked at Teal'c and Daniel with daggers in his eyes.

"Apophis has told of the world you speak of," said Bra'tac. "He plans to attack it soon with the aid of his son, Klorel. In your absence, Teal'c, he has promoted your son Rya'c to First Prime. He is a man grown now, and I've done my best to shape him. He is afraid of going against his master, however. He is within this ship and is likely looking for you as we speak. We have not heard from you for quite a while now, and I presumed you were dead. I am glad to see that I was wrong."

"I see," observed Teal'c.

Bra'tac looked at Daniel who had been hiding under his hood ever since the two were discovered. "Who is this?" he asked.

Before Teal'c could reply, Daniel spoke up. "Uh, Doctor Daniel Jackson at your service. I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but we're kind of trying to put your ship out of commission before it destroys my planet."

Bra'tac stared at him and frowned. He began to move his mouth in order to speak, but was interrupted by the sudden sound of an explosion. He looked to Teal'c and nodded as he motioned to the cargo ship. He headed over to the control panel near the door as the hangar doors were opened. "We can talk later," he said. "You must go, now."

Daniel and Teal'c nodded as they hurried over to the cargo vessel, but before they could get onboard they felt the ship shake. It was starting to ascend. "Oh no," muttered Daniel.

"No, no, no," said Bra'tac. He couldn't open the hangar doors. "It is far too soon to begin the attack."

"Well, the schedule's been bumped up a bit, hasn't it?" said Daniel.

-=(O)=-

Veronica was surrounded by an array of computers and holodisk readers hooked up to the subspace communicator that the Tok'ra had given them. Wires snaked throughout the room in a configuration that only she could make sense of, and even then only barely. As far as jury-rigged equipment went, Veronica took solace in the fact that at least it didn't seem to be at the risk of blowing up at any second now. At the end of a wall, a large screen composed of several smaller monitors showed a mosaic of deep-space readings and lines of code that made up the entirety of the ARCHIMEDES program.

She hated to admit it, but Arcade was right when he said she might be overestimating her capabilities a little bit. The Pre-War coders and scientists that developed the program had done their work when it came to protecting it against Chinese spies. This would go a whole lot faster if she had help with her, but her sense of pride told her that it was a bad idea. She was inclined to agree with it. Despite all that she'd done, there was something inside her that wanted to prove something.

She was bent over a terminal fiddling with the targeting coordinates when Arcade and Ignacio Rivas burst into the room, hurrying as if there were giant deathclaw-cazador hybrids chasing them.

"_Veronica!_" shouted Arcade. "There's something you should see."

"Not now, doc," replied Veronica. She had disassembled the mainframe and was busy fiddling with several wires. "I'm doing something important. Maybe you've heard of it. It's a little something called saving the world."

"Yes, I know, but this is important," he replied. "It's the Securitrons."

"Of course it is. What about them?"

"They just shut down."

Veronica stopped fiddling with the device as she looked up at Arcade, raising her eyebrow. "Really?"

"All of them," he replied. "Whatever's going on, it's big. Ignacio?"

"It's happening all over the Mojave," he said. "I'm getting different reports on what's going on out there, but the general consensus is that they just _froze. _I don't know what's going on, but it's chaos out there."

Veronica pursed her lips as she tried to come up with some sort of explanation. She could only come up with one.

"House."

Before she could continue with what she was about to say, she heard a voice – Jolinar, she recognized. One of the screens came to life as a green line appeared on it. The line moved in response to her voice, acting much like a oscilloscope for those music programs she used to tinker with as a child. Sure, it wasn't exactly necessary since the voice wasn't generated by an AI, but she thought it was cool.

"Apophis' ship has entered the orbit of your solar system, and you only have a matter of time before he is within attack distance of your planet," declared the Tok'ra. "Is your weapon ready?"

Veronica scrambled to a microphone to answer her, but again she was interrupted by something unexpected. Several of the screens began to glitch themselves out as scrambled data flickered in and out of view. They eventually settled on displaying an image which Veronica had seen a few times before when she was with Six. It was a smiley face that always seemed to be frozen in a state of ecstatic enthusiasm.

"Hey there!" declared the face's voice cheerily. Although she knew that he always meant well, she couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed by him. "It looks like you need help defending the world from total annihilation. How about letting me give you that help, friend?"

-=(O)=-

Scribe Ibsen thought there was something wrong with the computer. He had been seeing glitches on the screen for the past several hours now, and there were some controls that had been locked out from the system. For the past hour now the problems have been getting worse, however, and he suspected that bigger forces were at play.

His suspicions were all but confirmed when the entire system started going completely haywire. He lost control of the blast doors protecting the control room first. It came down with a resounding crash and he could do nothing to stop it from doing so. His view was completely blocked, and when he tried to reopen it the system wouldn't respond.

"Controls aren't responding!" he shouted to the scribe team. "Someone has to get down there and check out what's going on."

"We can't," replied one of the scribes. "Door access to the gate room is completely locked out. We can't do anything to get in."

Ibsen glowered. This was _not _good. "What about the other controls?"

"Nothing," said another scribe. She tapped on the screen in front of her even though she knew it wouldn't do anything. "It seems like someone else is taking full control of the system."

Ibsen looked at one of the other monitors and frowned. He heard a loud groan emanating from the gate room. "Wait, I'm getting something. Someone's opening the doors right above the gate room."

Head Paladin Ramos barged into the room with two paladins flanking him. He looked to Ibsen expectantly. "We're getting reports from all over the facility. The Securitrons have just shut down and doors have been shut all over the place. What's going on?"

"I don't know, sir," said Ibsen. "We've been completely locked out of the system. Someone's opening the doors above the gate room and we can't get inside since the controls aren't responding."

Ramos frowned. "Is there anything you _can _do?"

"Well, we can try the manual overrides."

Ramos nodded. "Good. You try doing that and send over one of the remaining squads to figure out what's going on down there. In the meantime, I'll relay the information to McNamara and see what's happening on the surface."

Ibsen nodded back at him. "Understood." He pointed to two of the scribes at their stations and pointed at the door. "You three, get to the gate doors. Try to access the control panels by whatever means necessary."

They gave him a nod of understanding as they hurried down to the gate room. Ibsen looked to the other scribes. "The rest of you, figure out a way to regain control of the systems. It looks like House is behind this, so proceed with extreme caution."

Meanwhile, a few levels above the control room, McNamara and his council hurried over to the elevators and headed straight to the surface. The elevator suddenly locked itself on the eighth level as the system malfunction continued to spread, however. They filed out of it before things got any worse.

"We'll have to continue by foot," said Ramos. "There should be an access hatch leading up to an emergency exit somewhere nearby."

-=(O)=-

One of the ships began to fly up into the air and headed into space before the Brotherhood moved to begin its assault. The other ship stayed aground as a result of Corrick and Gallows' sabotage. Once they'd managed to succeed in their mission, they blew up the part of the ship that was responsible for propulsion using remote Fat Mines that had been made by an industrious group of knights at the Citadel. The explosion had alerted the other ship as confusion began to spread through the ranks of the jaffa that remained on the planet.

The robots were the first to arrive. The Mister Gutsies, Sentrybots, and other weaponized machines trooped out of the forward operating base and opened fire once they came in sight of the remaining mothership and Apophis's camps. The first wave alone sent the jaffa scrambling to defend themselves as the machines closed their distance, spitting out plasma, fire, lasers, and bullets at anything that even dared to move.

Paladin Gunny and the formation of knights behind him reached the edge of the staging area as the jaffa scrambled to mount a defense against them. The robots had done their work well. They were in complete disarray as they tried to take down those that broke through their ranks. He sneered behind his helmet at the way the enemy conducted themselves. Their tactics were crude and primitive at best. Even though they may have had an advantage when it came to numbers, he believed them to be easy prey. He'd fought Enclave outposts tougher than this.

He raised his plasma caster as the knights clad in assorted models of power armour readied their weapons behind him. He fired off a volley of naquadah-charged plasma fire at what looked to be a firing range. The iridescent bolts streaked through the air and lit up the ground with a sickly green light before they landed and exploded where they touched the ground. One of them hit an alien warrior square in the torso, vaporizing him and blasting off the limbs of two others near him. They shouted for help, but their voices were drowned out by the Brotherhood's merciless attack.

"COME ON YOU MAGGOTS!" he shouted to the knights. His voice was amplified by his helmet's speaker. "DO YOU WANNA LIVE FOREVER?! SHOW THESE BASTARDS WHAT THE BROTHERHOOD IS MADE OF! KILL 'EM ALL!"

The knights cheered him on and echoed with a resounding "_Kill 'em all!_" They followed his example and marched forward firing their weapons, relentlessly pushing their advance as the jaffa tried to retaliate. Their efforts barely had any results that worked in their favor. As the Brotherhood marched forward, the crossfire illuminated the staging area with a bright assortment of colours that came from their guns and flashlights.

It wasn't even a fight – it was a massacre. The jaffa barely even made a scratch in the Brotherhood's ranks while they died in droves to a storm of flashing lights and bullets. Although a few lucky shots from their staff bolts and zats managed to hit several of the power-armoured figures directly, it only served as minor setbacks in their advance.

Although most of them carried energy weapons and guns, some of the combatants chose to conduct themselves in melee combat even with all the projectiles flying through the air. Enveloped in intermittent flashes of green and red light, a figure clad in Hellfire power armour stood triumphant over the corpses of two Serpent Guards. He wielded Rippers on both hands. His armour was soaked in their blood, making him a fearsome sight as the flashes repeatedly put him in and out of darkness.

A couple of guards who had their staff weapons raised to attack him hesitated once they saw him, but before they could fire he began to rush towards them with alarming speed. The only persistent light came from his eyeslits, which only served to make him all the more intimidating when he came in and out of darkness. They tried to run, but only one of them managed to escape and dropped his weapon to kneel down as a form of surrender. The other barely had any time to scream as the paladin cut through him in half, cleanly severing his torso and the symbiote carried within him. The sound of whirring motors and the meat it tore through sent a message to the others nearby, and they dropped their weapons out of terror.

In the distance, a squad of snipers taking cover behind dense foliage picked off stragglers and targets that seemed to be valuable with cold, methodical precision. Beside them, Lyons' Pride arrived at the site of the battle and observed the carnage.

"It's a massacre," remarked Paladin Vargas. "It appears that we've prepared ourselves well."

"Some of them have chosen to surrender," observed Kodiak. "The rest have chosen their own path."

"To think," said Vargas. "Our first contact with an alien race and they turn out to be our enemy. It's like something straight out of a Captain Cosmos comic book."

"We can talk about the space aliens later," replied Paladin Glade. "Sentinel Lyons sent us on this mission for a reason." He took out his missile launcher and loaded a specialized payload containing a Mini Nuke. "If you want that ship to go boom, just say the word and I'll blow it up."

Vargas nodded. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, then. You know, this mission would go a whole lot faster if he were here."

Kodiak knew who he was talking about. "Well, I have no doubt that the boy's doing well. Let's just hope that cross-country trip of his yields something of value."

"I hope so as well. But that's enough talk for now." Vargas loaded a battery of charge packs into his laser RCW. "Time to storm the castle."

Kodiak and Vargas weaved through the battle followed by three paladins that had originally been part of the Mojave chapter. The path to the ring platform was blanketed with the bodies of Serpent Guards who had been put out of commision, some of whom still seemed to be alive. A damaged Mister Gutsy headed to one of them and set him aflame. The texture of the guard's skin slowly turned into a blackened, charred husk as he cried out desperately for help to the tune of an Old World cadence blaring out of the robot's speakers. The symbiote keeping him alive only helped to prolong the agony as he was cooked alive.

When they came to the platform proper, they intercepted a group of jaffa that were planning to flee to the ship. Vargas persuaded them to hand over their ring devices by way of a friendly chat supported with the threat of total annihilation. They surrendered without much of a fight save for one that had been hit in the head with a stray plasma bolt. The paladins confiscated their weapons and tossed them over to a nearby squad of knights as the jaffa were forced to escort them up into the ship.

-=(O)=-

The Abydos gate flashed open just as Schuler and a group of scribes were about to walk through. They scrambled out of the way just as the disintegration vortex hit, reassembling themselves at the side to let whoever was on the other side through. They hadn't been informed of the situation in the facility yet, and as a result they barely had any time to react before a specialized flashbang came through the gate and disoriented them.

Rendered deaf and blind, they scrambled over to whatever cover they could find as four robots went through carrying what looked to be a tomb-like object between them. Schuler couldn't quite make out the sight of it, but he thought it looked like one of those sarcophagi that Daniel told her about. Nearby, she heard the sound of what seemed to be the mothership's ring platform activating. Hulking blue shapes started filing into the room to escort the new robots, and within what seemed to be a minute or so they were gone. Just as she and the others came to their senses, they felt the ground begin to shake.

Outside, Skaara and a Brotherhood Scribe on her downtime stood on wooden stools, facing each other across a chessboard that had been placed on a transplanted Vault-Tec coffee table. They were halfway through the game. Skaara's hand hovered over a pawn which looked a lot like one of Ra's Horus Guards and saw it shiver. He blinked as the shaking continued. "What is this?" he asked.

The scribe, mouth gape, pointed behind him where the pyramid stood. Skaara turned around, following her gaze and saw a sight that he hadn't seen in a while. Unable to muster a reply in astonishment, he silently watched the ship detach itself from the pyramid and ascend at an accelerating speed into the sky. A blue light appeared above it as it went faster. The ship slid into the light and disappeared without much fuss.

-=(O)=-

McNamara opened the hatch to the surface and was greeted to the sound of vertibird rotors. He clambered out hurriedly once he heard the sounds, followed by the rest of the council. He stood there, mouth agape, as he saw it: the vertibird was coloured pitch black and had a transparent force-field cage tethered to it by way of what seemed to be glowing blue energy emitters, circular in shape.

"Oh, by Maxson," muttered Rothchild. "What is in that thing?"

Ramos put on his helmet and magnified the sight of the cage. The vertibird's energy emitter was using a sort of hover technology and was lowering it into the gate chamber. Ramos saw what seemed to be floating brains attached to three TV screens arranged in an upside-down triangle. The two screens at the top displayed eyes whereas the bottom displayed a mouth. One of them appeared to be damaged. Upon closer inspection, he saw the sight of a figure – a woman, clad in a specialized variant of the NCR ranger armour.

They heard the voices talking inside by the couldn't make out a a word any of them were saying. From the sound of it, they were arguing. The cage disappeared into the gate room and after a few minutes the vertibird eventually flew off before Ramos and his paladin escorts made his way to it. They peeked over the horizontal doors as they began to seal themselves shut. The force cage had been deactivated and the brain-things were filing into an active Stargate. The woman followed.

"It's her," he said, turning around. "It was her."

McNamara raised his eyebrow before understanding what Ramos meant. "Of course it was. We should have figured that this was his plan all along."

Rothchild just looked at the elder quizzically. "I'm sorry, who?"

"House and the Courier," he said, "They've been planning this all along. I've always suspected, but it's only now that my suspicions are confirmed."

Rothchild nodded. "Well, what are you going to do now?"

McNamara massaged his forehead as he let out a deep, exasperated sigh. It was an understatement to say that this had been a tough week. "We have bigger problems," he said. "Whatever they do, let's hope House and that lackey of his manage to fix it before it's too late."


	14. Light the Fire

**LIGHT THE FIRE**

He peeked round the corner of an ancient ruin as a yellow energy projectile zipped past him. The shot grazed his helmet and added a scratch mark that he would brag about later once this was all over. He ducked back behind the stone wall as he raised his weapon and slid a drum of modified charge packs into it. He took a moment to look up at the sky and saw a formation of crescent shapes shadow the light of the planet's two moons. Once his weapon his loaded, he aimed down the sights at the enemy taking shots at him. He pulled the trigger and released a flurry of shining red lights that pierced the air. The beams joined a myriad number of lights that pushed back the night.

In the air, the death gliders charged their cannons and stood ready to retaliate against the invaders encroaching on the territory of their rightful gods. There were no more than a hundred of these intruders, they saw, and so by rights they should already have been vanquished. Despite the fact that they were outnumbered almost ten to one, however, they continued to push through with their devastating assault. Of all the colours flashing below them, the brightest were the mushroom-shaped explosions that outright obliterated groups of warriors that hadn't even raised their weapons yet.

As one, the formation dived to begin their first attack. They aimed their cannons at what they perceived to be the backbone of the assault; the back formation held several heavy weapon platforms and groups of machines and iron men that attacked from afar. The jaffa made good use of machines as weapons and tools of war, but never as warriors. Such an idea was unsettling to them – the Goa'uld thought such creations to be abominations.

They closed the distance to the formations and lowered their altitude. Their targets shifted from blips on their sensors to figures spitting light in the distance. Normally, they would have struck for the sake of intimidation and terror, but it appeared that these iron men had no fear. They were not cowed by the sight of the venerable Ma'Tok as most others would. As such, they had to be accurate. This took time, of course, and it was time that made the gamble that stood on the brink between losing and winning the battle. Klorel sent the gliders as a last resort with most of his soldiers unable to assist him, and with his ship's weapons and _Al'kesh_ disabled he had no other choice.

Even that option would fail him, however. The snipers, spotting the aircraft thanks to their enhanced optics, signalled the positions fortifying the rear of their formations and positions. They relayed the sensor information to a network of nearby Eyebots and opened up a communications channel.

"Looks like you have six bogeys closing in on your position," declared one of the spotters.

A woman manning a portable control station mounted on the back of a Protectron nodded along as she relayed the information to the formation at her back. "I see them. Copy?"

"Copy," said a paladin that stood behind a sandbag. He had just finished loading a missile into his launcher. He took a moment to punch in the coordinates into his guidance system. "Think I can take out two of them in one blast."

"They're getting closer," said the spotter. He saw yellow lights below the alien craft. "Better light 'em up now."

"Thought you'd never ask," said the paladin rather enthusiastically. Just as he fired his missile, he was bathed in the bright cyan light of a Tesla cannon firing beside him. In his peripheral vision he saw the glow of two missiles jumping straight into the sky from other positions parallel to his.

Before the gliders could even launch their first attack, their formation was shattered by two explosions that followed each other almost immediately. The first hit one of the gliders directly, causing it to explode in a large fireball that consumed the one beside it. The second almost missed a glider at the opposite edge of the formation, causing it to blow a wing as it headed down into the ground. The other three scrambled to evade the weapons as more missiles streaked towards them. They danced through the air trying to avoid tesla beams, missiles, and plasma blasts, which, needless to say, left their offensive capabilities lacking.

In the end, only one of them survived more than a minute after their attempted assault. The pilot, seeing the fate of his comrades, decided to perform a kamikaze run. If he was going to die, he would die with dignity. He climbed up into the air, sustaining heavy weapons fire, before he started his accelerated fall. He was sent off course thanks to a well-placed shot, however, and ended up crashing in a dense thicket of foliage nearby.

That was only the first wave, however. The others fared no better than they did, save for a lucky shot that managed to take out a group of scribes manning an auxiliary control station. Klorel, depleted of his attempts at resistance, decided that there was only one thing left to do. He gathered his servants and called for his entourage to accompany him for his evacuation.

As the alien continued to brood on his throne, a squad of the Brotherhood's best were cutting a bloody swathe through what remained of his personal guard. Loyal to the end, they chose to die defending their master rather than give themselves up to these implacable men. The Pride didn't care less about what they felt, though. Their objective was simple – take out the leader and seize the mothership.

"Victory is at hand, brothers!" shouted Paladin Vargas into the intercom. "Keep fighting and advance! Show these aliens the true power of the Brotherhood!"

The cheers that came through his comm system were muted out as he spat out another volley of plasma fire inside one of the bays that housed the aliens' attack aircraft. He had traded his RCW for one of the turbocasters carried by the paladins accompanying them, which proved to be more than enough when it came to destroying both soldier and vehicle alike. With the vehicles glowing a sick green from the plasma's afterglow, he stood back-to-back with Kodiak as they fought off another wave of Klorel's Serpent Guards.

They were so engrossed in the battle that they barely had any time to react when Corrick shouted something out in the emergency channel of the communications system.

"_It's going to blow_!" he said, panic evident in his voice. "I repeat, it's going to blow! Get out of this rock before you get sent over to kingdom come!"

Vargas and Kodiak looked at each other past their helmets and nodded at each other. They headed over to the corridor leading away from the hangar bays and forced their way through the corpses of a group of Serpent Guards that had tried to take them out.

"Can you confirm what he said, Gallows?" said Vargas. It took what seemed to him to be too long to respond.

"I can confirm," replied Gallows. "You have five minutes to escape the ship and head back through the Stargate. We expect the ship's explosion to scour the atmosphere and wipe the planet clean of life. The scribe and I have already sent the order to the rest of the soldiers and the personnel left at the operating base. The gate is active, but you must hurry."

Vargas moved his mouth to agree, but before he could speak Kodiak put an armoured hand on his shoulderpad. "There might still be a way to disable the countdown," he said. "We can't just abandon this technology, not now."

Vargas just looked at him for a while and gave a slow nod. "Take whoever you can and get out of here," he declared. "We're staying behind. There may still be a chance to recover the technology."

"Are you _mad?!_" shouted the earlier scribe. "There's no way you-"

"Get out of here," interjected the paladin. "We're staying."

Speechless, the scribe murmured something that seem to be an agreement and cut off his communication. Vargas looked back at the paladins behind him who simply stood in silence. He knew that they would follow him to the death, and it was no question that they would do so now. "If any of you want to keep your lives, leave now and there might still be a chance."

None of them moved. Vargas turned his head back and pressed on to find a way to disable the ship. They encountered little resistance as they headed over to Klorel's throne room. He had turned his throne around to look at the window, observing little flashes of light that indicated that a battle was still raging. Evidently, the evacuation wasn't complete. He was bathed in the red light given out by the ship's emergency system and seemed strangely calm for someone who had just had his legacy destroyed.

"It's over," declared Vargas, taking off his helmet. The Serpent Guards flanking the Goa'uld made no move to attack him. "Surrender now and cancel the countdown. We may yet grant you the gift of mercy."

The Goa'uld slowly turned his chair around and just looked at the grizzled veteran of the Pride. He had his finger on what seemed to be a stone button that rested on the armrest of his throne. Vargas readily figured out what he was about to do and moved to fire his weapon. The last thing he saw was a bright yellow flash in the alien's eyes as he let out one last smug smirk of defiance.

-=(O)=-

Veronica didn't quite know what to think about what was going on in front of her, but what was certain was that she was as tense as the spring in a BB gun. She flicked her eyes between several screens and observed the technological wizardry that Yes Man was performing on them. The robot's face still stood dominant in the centre of the monitors, and for some reason Veronica felt that the static face of his was giving off a sense of smugness.

That was preposterous, of course. Everyone knows robots don't have emotions. Still, Veronica couldn't help but feel like there was something more behind the personality forged by the AI's neurocomputational matrix. She pushed the thought of her mind and focused on the screens in front of her. On most screens she saw code shifting in and out of view as hundreds of lines were revised and rewritten faster than the eye could see, and on others she saw the graphical representations of programs installing themselves inside the HELIOS One mainframe.

The sight was somewhat unsettling to her. Although she knew that such things were possible, like what happened when House messed with the Groom Lake facility systems, she'd never seen it on a scale like this. These were computers that she'd built, systems that she'd assembled and had a personal connection to, and it felt dirty seeing that creepy smiling man… thing, messing with all of that. She didn't like to discuss it with people, mostly because it was already a given, but she did have a little problem with people messing with her stuff without her consent.

There was a "but" to that, though. Would she be able to overcome that nagging sense of annoyance if the world was at stake?

_Well, yeah,_ she thought. _Maybe. Probably._

Veronica resignedly crossed her arms as she let Yes Man do his thing to the program, doing in minutes what would have probably taken her days or weeks to finish. She had to admit, despite their supposed non-livingness, artificially-constructed intelligences had a knack for navigating computer programs like, well, like they were one of them.

Yes Man finished his revisions with a rather friendly-sounding "ping" sound.

"There you go!" he said in the perpetually optimistic voice of his. "The revisions to the HELIOS One program are all done. You should be able to totally destroy that alien mothership once it comes within optimum range now."

Veronica just squinted at him. "And exactly how long will that be?"

"My calculations predict that he'll _probably _come within range in around an hour or so," he said. "There's about a fifty six percent chance that you can disable that mothership of his with a well-placed hit from ARCHIMEDES I, followed by a surgical strike from ARCHIMEDES II. If you're lucky, you could completely obliterate the alien overlord and save humanity in the process! Talk about a wild gamble, but I'm sure you'll be _extremely _successful in that endeavour! If not, well then you probably won't be able to find out anyway! Because you'll be dead. That would be bad."

Veronica rolled her eyes. She looked overhead and saw Arcade talking about something with Rivas. They looked like they were deeply engaged in conversation. She wondered idly for a moment about what they were talking about, and promptly decided that it was probably going to bore her. She turned her gaze back to Yes Mand and put her hand on her forehead, sighing. They were going to be stuck together for a while.

"So," she said. "What's the deal with you, uh, helping us?"

"You can thank the Courier for that!" he replied, enthusiastic as always. "After she killed Benny, I almost thought that she forgot about me, if believe robots can think that is. I mean, I certainly think so! But I can tell that you probably don't want to talk about that philosophical dilemma right now. So, anyway, getting back to the point of your question, do you want the short answer or the long answer? I mean, I don't want to waste your time or anything."

Veronica looked around. She didn't want to touch her computers yet. Silly as it might sound, she felt afraid of what happened to her little… well, she hesitated to call them _children_, but that was how she viewed them. She'd spent virtually her entire life with technology, and it bothered her why she couldn't figure out why she felt so uncomfortable talking to robots. She speculated that maybe it was that connection to House that bugged her so much.

Then again, what was the risk in a little exposition?

"Long answer," she said. "It's not like I have anything to do, at any rate."

"If you say so!" replied the robot cheerily. He adopted demeanour that suited someone telling a story. "It all started when Benny – you know him, right? Slick guy, dead…. Well, Benny wanted to take over Mr. House's operations because he wanted more power. As the Courier probably told you, that ended up landing him in hot water that eventually killed him. Talk about bad plans, am I right? After that little incident…"

He continued on and Veronica listened. Overhead, Arcade and Rivas exited the ARCHIMEDES Mainframe to inspect what the remaining lab personnel were doing inside the power plant itself. With what few hours they might have left, they figured that the scientists and engineers could use a little break from their work to have the time of their lives in Novac before it was all over.

-=(O)=-

Chris Haversam flicked the switch on the radio inside the lab. He had put his feet up on one of the consoles inside the lab and was idly taking a few sips from his cup of coffee. He found the taste of it bitter and strong, but he'd gotten used to the taste of it. This got him wondering about what coffee was like before the War. He had seen a few advertisements in a couple of old magazines about how coffee shops were a big thing, many varieties of the beverage that would be impossible to make now. Sugar and cream had been replaced by a couple of Nuka-Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla drops and a teaspoon or so of Brahmin milk, which imitated the regular coffee that most people drank well enough. Thing like vanilla and caramel had likely been driven extinct, but he suspected that some samples existed in a distant Vault somewhere. Chris simply gave a mental shrug and eased the thought off of his mind, and instead diverted his attention to the voice of Mr. New Vegas on the radio.

"And we're back, time for the news. There was widespread panic in the Mojave earlier today as reports of malfunctioning Securitrons were reported all across the desert. There were scattered incidents of looting and rioting in certain areas, but they were quickly quelled when the robots came back online less than two hours later. Here we are with a scientist, one Dr. Ortal, from the Followers of the Apocalypse who claims to have an explanation for the event."

"Yes, thank you Mr. New Vegas," said a woman's voice on the radio. "We suspect that it might be a system update being pushed to all Securitrons in the area. We don't really know what went on back there, but it seems to have been fixed. There should be no cause for alarm."

"Thank you, doctor," replied Mr. New Vegas. "There has been no official word yet from the Lucky 38 or Mr. House about this event. In other news, listeners have noted an increased amount of strange radio traffic coming from Legion territory. NCR technicians at Camp McCarran believe it to be related to increasingly common reports of unidentified aircraft that have been going through the Mojave area in recent weeks. A spokesman claimed that the aircraft did not belong to the NCR, but would not elaborate further on the matter. That's the news, folks. Now time for some music; here's a little touch of foreign flavour, as Frank Sinatra tells you why he wants to join the _French Foreign Legion._"

"You know what the deal with women is?" said the voice of the idiot with the sunglasses. Chris turned around and saw him trying to open an old peanut butter jar. He seemed to be having trouble with it. Chris just shrugged at him. He didn't find his company as enjoyable as the NCR claimed it to be.

"Of course you wouldn't," said Fantastic, "but let me educate you on something. See, they don't recognize brilliance when they see it. You tell them that you work on things that the human race depends on and they ask you stupid questions about '_that's dumb'_ and '_I don't think that's how it works'_ and other stuff like that." He scoffed. "But you know what, I don't need them. My work speaks for itself. I mean, man, did I ever tell you about…"

He rambled on like that for several minutes as Chris pretended to listen when he actually wasn't. The three other scientists in the lab followed his example and did what they always did when Fantastic went on one of his rants. Although they all agreed that he was annoying and shouldn't be here in the first place, they had to admit that he was quite… special. He eventually piped down after Ignacio and Arcade barged into the room to declare that they should take the rest of the day off.

The scientists filed out of the room pretty quickly, relieved by the idea of spending the rest of the day without Fantastic hanging around, who incidentally was the last to leave. He blabbered on something about picking up hot chicks before Rivas shut the door in his face. Sighing, he took a seat in one of the spare tables in the kitchen across from Arcade. He had taken out some Cram from the fridge and haphazardly poured its contents out onto a plate as a makeshift lunch.

Rivas looked at his meal and then at Arcade disapprovingly. Arcade just shrugged as he took out a fork and started slicing at the slab of processed meat. "It's cold and it's unappealing, but I'm hungry and it was the most convenient option that came out. What do you expect from me, a Brahmin Wellington?"

Rivas couldn't comment on that. "Right… Well, you haven't exactly told me why you and that Brotherhood scribe are here yet. You've been dodging the question like it's one of the plagues. What's going on?"

"Important stuff," said Arcade defensively. "You, uh, don't really want to get involved in this. All I can tell you is that the Brotherhood's involved, and so is House. You already know that, of course. All you have to do is put two and two together, which is pretty easy."

"I see. There've been a lot of strange things going on in the Mojave lately, and whatever it is that you two are up to… I hope you know what you're doing, Gannon. I have a gut feeling that you're deep into something that you can't go back from."

"Who said I want to get out? I like what I'm doing, for a given value of 'like'. You can choose whether or not to believe me, but you know that my judgement is sound, as egotistic as that might sound. What we're doing is important."

"We?" asked Rivas. "You're going to bed with the Brotherhood. You of all people should know that they don't have a good track record when it comes to actually helping people."

"I know," said Arcade. "But they're changing. Well, a specific section of them anyway. There are good people amongst them, despite what they've done. I have faith in them, and you should be well aware that I'm not one to make that statement likely."

"I'll take your word for it, Gannon. Whatever you're doing, I hope it's for the greater good."

The doctor nodded nonchalantly as he took another bite of his Cram. He pointed casually at the door leading to the exit and grinned at Rivas. "You should take the rest of the day off, you know. We'll handle things from here."

Once alone in the lab that had once been the source of so many headaches for the Brotherhood, Arcade put his hand radio on the table and took a few minutes to debate whether or not he should talk to Veronica. He felt oddly calm despite the fact that the world would most likely be destroyed in the next few hours, and decided not to ruminate on the matter. He supposed that his travels had made him the kind of man that wouldn't shirk at doing a suicide mission if there's a chance that it would succeed. He could blame Six and that diabetes-inducing sweet tongue of hers, he supposed.

He got over his minor moment of social anxiety and pushed the button to talk. "How're you doing over there?" he asked, his voice somewhat muffled by a bite of Cram.

"Educated," replied Veronica's voice as it passed through a curtain of the obligatory radio-static. "Also annoyed. Very. Please send help."

Arcade chuckled. "Having some fun with the robot?"

"Oh yeah," she deadpanned. "Only because of the information I'm getting though. I'd tell you all about it once it's all over so you don't have to endure his constant… Whatever it is that he does."

"I believe the phrase you're looking for is 'sanguine vexation'."

"Gee, thanks," she said with a pretty obvious hint of sarcasm. "Seriously, though, come up here. He's got a lot of answers to a bunch of questions you've probably asked before."

"Uh huh," said Arcade. "I'll be with you shortly." He tapped his fork against a tin can. "Lunch."

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure that's what my meal is called. A regular custom evident in many cultures. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"All right, then."

After half an hour or so of drudgingly eating off his plate of unfrozen Cram, Arcade headed over to the mainframe again and made his way to Veronica's lair – a somewhat incomprehensible mess of computers, input mechanisms, and screens. He found her enthralled in front of the screen that housed Yes Man's face, listening intently as a tribal child would to an elder retelling some oral tradition. He snapped her out of it and they played a game of Caravan to pass the time.

With not much to trade on their person, they decided to do a risqué variant of the game: this time, rather than money, clothing was at stake. With neither of them finding each other particularly rousing when it came to the birds and bees, they figured that it was just good clean fun. With nobody around them in the close vicinity save for an army of security robots and a slightly vexing AI that wouldn't have any interest in any sort of biological urge, they sat down on a couple of broken Mister Handies and started the game.

Arcade thought himself to be a good strategist, but he found Veronica a more cunning opponent than he thought. He knew that she was the kind of person that tended to go on the offensive, but he didn't expect her to be all that aggressive. He regretted underestimating her when he handed over his pants in the third game after the earlier ones ended in a draw. They were so engrossed in the competition that when Yes Man alerted them that the ship came within striking distance, Veronica barely had any time to dress herself up and as such simply decided to go as she was. Arcade simply shrugged on his labcoat for modesty and followed her.

And so it was, barefoot and clad in her undershirt and a pair of panties, Veronica came to the arduous task of saving the world from destruction from a bunch of alien invaders. She rushed into her computer room and began. She looked at the radar screen and at Yes Man before manning the control console. She'd linked it up to the main systems at the tower to save her the trouble of having to go all the way up there just to send the command to fire the fancy laser.

With Yes Man having done what he was apparently supposed to do, she assumed that all that was left for her to do was fire the laser. She wouldn't be sure unless she asked him, though.

"Is the laser ready to fire?" she asked.

"It is!" said Yes Man. "I've already taken care of everything else for you, because I'm just that helpful. All you have to do is fire the lasers and your trouble should be completely solved."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm incapable of being unsure!"

"Great," she muttered. She took a look at the control console and began the process of firing the laser. First, she pulled a lever all the way up and watched one of the screens in front of her – a realtime status monitor of the power systems. She waited until she heard the telltale hum that usually accompanied things like this and watched as green slowly outnumbered the black on the progress bar. Once it was full, she pushed the button that had a piece of tape below it simply saying "FIRE" in bad marker handwriting.

The hum dissipated. She looked back at the radar screen and waited, holding her breath as the big moment arrived. The Tok'ra had a way of monitoring events around Earth's immediate orbit, she knew, but she could only hazard as to how they did it. What she did know was that the data was simply being fed through the communicator that she'd hooked up to all of the computers. It registered the ARCHIMEDES' energy signature as a line that started traversing the black void of space. It missed. The second one hit it directly, but it barely seemed to do anything. The blip that designated the mothership was still there.

"Uh-oh!" said Yes Man. "It looks like the main laser missed its target by _quite_ a bit. I probably should've calibrated the targeting system first, huh?" He gave a little laugh.

"It _what?!"_ exclaimed Veronica, punching the monitor. She stepped back from the control console and gave a menacing look at Yes Man. She counted herself lucky that she didn't have a power fist on at the time. "You had _one _job, you perpetually optimistic pile of digital refuse!"

"Don't worry about it," continued the AI, "I'm already working on it! The Courier installed me onto the mainframe for a reason, right?" He chuckled. "Just give me a few minutes…"

Veronica just looked at the robot's annoying, smirky face plastered on the screen. Arcade was still quiet, and when she turned he saw that the man, stoic as he always seemed to be, was sweating. She knew that he wasn't much of a man for emotion, but at times like this he'd usually lash out or something. After seeing that, she knew that the situation was worse than she thought. The last time he was like this, it was the incident with Boone…

Impatiently, she kicked one of the monitors and realized that she should probably have put her boots on first. She shrugged the pain aside as she groan-screamed at Yes Man.

"_Fix it!"_ she cried. "I don't want the world to be destroyed because of an goddamn un-calibrated creepy smiley robot!"

"You're panicking right now," said Yes Man. "I'm working on it, though! It would probably better for you if you calmed down, but what does a robot like me know about stress management?"

"_Shit shit shit shit_," muttered Veronica as if she were running out of breath. She was pacing back and forth frantically in front of the monitors and rushed back to the console to try and get a grip of the situation. She was muttering offensive phrases, or at least stuff she that was offensive to robots, under her breath as she tried to do things that she would not have normally done in a less panicked state; namely push buttons randomly in the hope that something would happen. She had enough logic left in her not to push any buttons that would actually do anything, though. It was a way to relieve stress, in her own way. "Work faster, dammit!"

"I'm doing my best to comply with your clearly not unrealistic request, because I'm programmed not to address any possible flaw in your words or actions directly! Please wait a few more seconds as I fix the problem for you."

Arcade just looked at Yes Man and backed away slowly. He remained quiet throughout the entire ordeal and knew better than to get in Veronica's way when she went haywire. It barely ever happens, but the last time it did, bad things tended to happen. Usually it would be because she was way too drunk or under the influence of something like drugs, but those rare times when her outbursts came out of pure irritation of rage? She was a force that was definitely not to be fucked with.

Yes Man seemed to get this well enough, and after a few seconds of frantic useless button-pushing his face started talking again. "I've recalibrated the targeting system for the satellites. There's now only a marginal chance of failure, according to my calculations. Gee, that was a close one huh?"

Veronica turned to the radar screen and held up a hand to the AI's face. "Please shut up." She took counted to three in her mind, breathed deeply, and pulled the lever again. She heard the hum of power conduits coursing as the facility gathered up another batch of power. The sound of it was far too strong, however, and she and Arcade were forced to cover their ears. The weapon wasn't meant to be fired in such quick succession. After a nearby junction box exploded, Arcade ran over to Veronica and yelled over the sound of solar energy. "**You should probably tone it down a bit!**"

"**Not now, doc!**" replied Veronica. She waited for the power monitor screen to reach maximum capacity before she pushed the button. A couple of power junctions blew up as the power surge ran through the facility, busting out all the lights except for the monitors linked up to the subspace communicator – she had the foresight to link them up to an independent power source. She turned to the radar screen that held the big blip that was supposed to be the mothership outside the Earth's atmosphere. Yes Man was still on, she saw, but paid little heed to him.

It took a few seconds before the sensor aboard wherever the Tok'ra were registered the energy blast delivered by the ARCHIMEDES satellite. A straight line of monochrome green light ran through the monitor, running through empty space. Veronica held her breath and crossed her fingers as the line ran across the monitor. It was a direct hit.

"**Fuck, yes**!" shouted Veronica ecstatically as she saw the blip on the screen disappear with a little digital pop. "I did it, doc! It's gone!_"_

She ran forward and gave Arcade a hug. Unsure of how to react to that, especially with both of them in a particularly undressed state, the doctor just let his hands wrap around her awkwardly "Yeah," he replied uncomfortably. "That's great."

Veronica tightened her embrace. "I did it," she muttered. "I friggin' _did it._"

-=(O)=-

Daniel stared out of the forcefield protecting the cargo bay and stood there at a loss for words as Earth came into view. Although there were several differences in comparison to the last picture he saw of it a long time ago, the little blue, now rather brownish, orb was mostly the same as it used to be. He didn't have the time to single out all the fine details however, especially with the fate of it hanging in the balance. He turned to Bra'tac and Teal'c, who were still arguing about loyalty and duty.

"So," he said loudly over both of them. "We're in a bit of a pickle here."

"I am aware of that, Daniel Jackson," said Teal'c. "Our circumstances have changed significantly."

"Indeed," agreed Bra'tac, turning to his fellow old man. "My original intention was to turn Apophis against his son, Klorel. Amongst the Goa'uld, it is common for children to turn against their parents in order to prove their power. With the trouble Apophis has had finding his son a host, it would no doubt be fitting if Klorel were to rebel against him to signal his impatience. However, as Teal'c has said, circumstances have changed significantly. We must act soon if we are to save your world."

"I figured that," replied Daniel. "What are we going to do now?"

"You have taken out several of the ship's control functions, correct?" asked Bra'tac.

"Indeed," said Teal'c.

"That is good. It will buy us more time to strike at Apophis himself. Your son Rya'c is his First Prime, and in your absence I have made it my mission to be his mentor. He desires freedom just as much as you do, but it will be difficult to convince him of your true intentions. Apophis has seen it fit to punish him for your actions, and it has taken a heavy effect on him. I've tried to lead him back to the path to freedom, but he will hear none of it."

"I see. He is a strong and capable warrior, and I am confident that he knows what needs to be done. I will see what I can do to turn him back to our cause."

"You must hurry, then. Apophis has no doubted started repairing the damages to his control system and dispatched your son to aid in the search for us. Find him, Teal'c, and convince him to fight against his master."

"Very well," said Teal'c. He slipped on his Serpent Guard helmet once more and went off to search for Apophis's first prime. As he left, Bra'tac turned to Daniel and looked at him.

"Is it true that you are the one who defeated Ra?" he asked.

Daniel dredged up the memory and smiled. "Yeah," he said. "That's me."

"Strange. Your manner does not strike me as that of a warrior."

The old man shrugged. "I'm more of a scholar, but… well, sometimes we have to do what we have to even if we don't like it."

"I understand," said Bra'tac. "It is time to awaken that inner warrior once more. I trust that your world has weapons that are capable are of attacking this vessel?"

"I think so," said Daniel. "I've never seen it in action, but it might be able to put the thing out of commission, at least."

"Good," said the warrior. "We must disable the shields first. Come with me."

-=(O)=-

He stood in a hallway and took his helmet off in front of a jaffa patrol, giving himself up willingly with the request that he be delivered to the First Prime personally. He knew the faces of the jaffa that led them here – some of whom he used to command. They wouldn't follow him now, though, not after becoming a _shol'va_. He figured that some of them had to be following Bra'tac's teachings, but they kept themselves well hidden.

So it was that he was forced to kneel in front of his son, having climbed the ranks after his absenced. He was far from the youngest First Prime that had ever been conducted into the service of their god, on the contrary – there were some that were inducted at the age of manhood for their exemplary skill or service at a young age. A lot of them grew into strong generals, and Teal'c knew that his son had the ability to carry that burden.

It was a burden that he didn't want his son to bear, however. He must know, deep in his heart, that the Goa'uld are false gods. It was Teal'c's job to make him realize that truth. He noted the look in his son's eyes as he looked at him for the first time in a long while. Rya'c sneered as he looked at his father, thinking him to be a coward for giving himself up.

"So it's come to this, _shol'va_," he said. "I would have expected you to put up more of a fight."

"Do you not recognized your own father, Rya'c?"

Rya'c glared at him. "How can I call you my father? You are a traitor, a _shol'va._ You were the pride of our god, Apophis, his greatest soldier, and you turned coat for these… soulless iron men. It _shames _me to share blood with you."

"You do not understand, my son. The Goa'uld are false gods, no more than pretenders – parasites that would be nothing without us. You must know this, you must desire freedom."

Rya'c looked shocked for a moment, before returning to the usual stoic demeanour expected of a First Prime. He looked at the jaffa around him and dismissed them with a silent order. They marched out of the room one by one, leaving him and his father alone in the room. He closed the door behind them. Silent, he simply circled his father, not bothering to help him up. Teal'c took the initiative, but Rya'c put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Remain," he ordered. "You have a lot to answer for."

Teal'c recognized his son's true allegiance and gave the ghost of a smile. "You have grown, my son. It must tire you to serve Apophis."

"I had to," replied Rya'c. "After you left, we were ostracized and mother was seen as a traitor. Bra'tac took me under his wing and regained Apophis's trust. I was elevated to First Prime after my performance in a battle with one of the petty minor System Lords and it was left to me to support her. You _left us_, father. Bra'tac told me of the truth, of how you decided to fight for these men, but that doesn't change the fact that you abandoned us."

"They offer a chance for us to fight for our freedom, Rya'c. They have the technology, the power to help us fight the Goa'uld. If you could just understand-"

"What is there to understand, father?" Rya'c looked at him with watery eyes. "You left us to bed with these aliens and didn't even bother to tell us of them. We had to fend for ourselves, father. I have had to do things just for the sake of our family. You _abandoned us. _For that, I will never forgive you. I will let you free, but do not show your face to me ever again."

"I am truly for that, my son, but I have done what is needed of me," replied Teal'c. "But what I have done, I have done for our freedom. If you could just understand the true impl-"

He was interrupted by what sounded like an explosion. Rya'c, alert, suddenly rushed over to the door and opened it. He saw jaffa running towards the direction that led to the elevators. He grabbed a jaffa that was in the process of putting on his helmet and demanded an explanation.

"The shields have been sabotaged!" declared the jaffa. Rya'c let him go as Teal'c stood up and walked behind him. In all the chaos, the Serpent Guards barely even noticed him. He heard the crackle of his hand radio and heard the voice of Daniel Jackson talking to him.

"-ready to go," he said. "Cargo bay, now!"

"Not yet, Daniel Jackson," said Teal'c. "I must end this once and for all."

He took Rya'c's staff weapon and patted him on the shoulder. "If you wish to set yourself free, we must go to Apophis and destroy him before he escapes."

Rya'c stared at him silently for a while and nodded. "He is heading to his escape vessel now. We must hurry before he leaves."

Teal'c and Rya'c put their helmets on as they pushed against the wave of hysterical servants and jaffa that were rushing to deal with the situation presented by Bra'tac's forces. They felt the ship shake as they heard another explosion, followed by screams from some of the servants who were scrambling to find a way to save themselves. Evidently, the ship's weapons had been taken out as well since there appeared to be no attempt to retaliate.

They found Apophis and his entourage rushing through the crowd in one of the upper levels, heading towards one of the cargo bays. Teal'c snatched a staff weapon dropped by one of the running Serpent Guards and coordinating with Rya'c, managed to take down two of the guards flanking Apophis before he caught on. They aimed at him and fired, but the false god had managed to raise a shield around himself before he turned back and ran.

Teal'c grunted.

Rya'c scoffed. "Coward."

They continued onward as his entourage split up towards alternate paths in order to reach the escape vessel. They weren't the duo's main target however. They chased Apophis through a rush of fleeing men, making a couple of Serpent Guards who chased them in turn. As they ran through the crowded hallways, they dodged staff blasts and tried their bests to retaliate with blasts of their own. It came to melee several times and they had to stop for a few moments to put down the guards, but they were relentless in their pursuit.

They eventually managed to corner Apophis as he climbed into a cargo vessel, but in the end they were too late – he had already managed to enter the vehicle. They began attacking it with staff blasts, but it was of no use. The _tel'tak_, although damaged, managed to exit the force field. They felt the air depressurize as Apophis deactivated the force field, forcing them to rush back to the hallway and close the door behind them.

"Apophis has escaped," said Teal'c as he took out his radio.

"Yeah, great," said Daniel, "but we have bigger problems right now. We got word from the Tok'ra that energy blasts are coming out near the planet. You better hurry before they release another one."

"Understood. Rya'c, we must flee."

Rya'c looked at his father begrudgingly and nodded in agreement. He wasn't one to turn from a battle easily, but for now he needed to be prudent. He followed his father to another cargo bay where an open cargo vessel was waiting for them. An old man was waiting near the entrance ramp and started waving them over as he entered the vessel himself. Rya'c followed his father into the vessel and watched the back as the ramp closed behind him. He felt the inertial dampeners start up as they started hovering over the hangar.

Teal'c sat beside Bra'tac in the co-pilot seat as they entered the vacuum. His mentor managed to get a lock on Apophis's escape ship and was tracking it. Beside them, he could see another cargo vessel that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"We are receiving a hail," said Bra'tac. "It is coming from that ship."

"Proceed," said Teal'c.

They were greeted by a screen that showed the faces of Martouf and Jolinar. Relieved by the sight, Teal'c simply gave them his regular nod of acknowledgement and began to brief them on the situation. "Apophis has escaped his vessel," he said. "We must hurry if we are to defeat him."

Without a word, the Tok'ra gave them a nod and closed the transmission. The ship that had just come out of the cloak fired a couple of energy blasts at Apophis's vessel, but the pilot managed to evade.

"Do we have weapons on this vessel?" asked Teal'c.

Bra'tac checked a couple of screens and shook his head. "We do not."

Frowning, Teal'c decided to hail Apophis' ship. They accepted the transmission and saw their god come into view with his wife behind him.

Before they could speak, the Goa'uld only said one phrase. "You will pay for this, _shol'va_."

Daniel just stared at the woman that stood beside Apophis, mouth agape. He couldn't muster a response until their transmission was terminated when they entered the hyperspace window. "It can't be," he muttered. "I don't believe it, it's her."

-=(O)=-

Veronica and Arcade were unwinding in her room looking at a chip that looked quite a bit like the one that jumpstarted Six's path into notoriety. It had been ejected from the mainframe after Veronica managed to destroy the mothership thanks to Yes Man's help, and there wasn't any guessing as to what was inside it. The problem was, though, she didn't quite know what do with him. It wasn't just his AI contained in the chip, though, as she found out, but also a plethora of programs and lines of code that made up Mr. House's extensive library of knowledge on the subject of creating sentient machines. Plus a bunch of other stuff she didn't bother to look at yet.

"He could be useful as a household servant of some sort," suggested Arcade. He was slouching in athe rather comfy couch next to her and idly sipping a glass of juice plucked from fruit that came from off-world. He knew that it was only a matter of time that the Brotherhood figured out with access to a whole wide range of actual non-irradiated plants and animals at their disposal, the Brotherhood would soon find themselves in a position that would be extremely and enviously valuable in the Wasteland trading game. Of course, they were still a bit of an isolationist bunch so that probably wasn't going to happen any time soon. "If you had a house, that is."

"I'm carrying what might possibly be the most advanced piece of artificial intelligence technology in my hands right now," commented Veronica. "And all I'm thinking about is a way to use it to fix the printers. Well, we all start with small steps, don't we?"

"That we do. When are you going to tell them?"

"I don't know. Taggart, Rothchild, and Schuler are going to absolutely _freak _over this, and McNamara's definitely not letting me just go ahead and keep it. It's not like I don't know its potential, though. It's just that… I don't know. I mean, I know they're my family and all but there's something in me, a vague feeling that there's something. I don't know what it is, but it's just there. I could guess that it's hesitation, but… I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I guess saving the world does that to ya, huh?" She chuckled nervously.

Arcade just nodded. "It does, doesn't it? Look, if you're having a dilemma over what to do with that thing, just put it away for a while and don't tell anyone. Go talk to someone for a bit. I don't really know what Yes Man told you in that room, but it's clear you still have conflicting feelings about her."

Veronica glared at him and went on the sarcastic defense. "Gee, ya think?"

With that, they sat in silence for a while until a few minutes later they were greeted with the sound of someone knocking on the door. Daniel took a seat in front of the two and took a drink from a glass of water that had been laid out on the table.

"Tough day?" he asked.

Veronica took her head out of her hands and gave a weary sigh in response to Daniel. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"Well," he replied. "Saving the world can do that to you, I guess."

"Seems like you're taking it well," said Arcade. "How was your adventure?"

Daniel shrugged. "It had its moments, I guess. To tell the truth, the whole experience has just been so surreal. Teal'c brought over a couple of friends, though. Ramos has his suspicions, but when doesn't he?"

"You'll get used to it," snarked Veronica. "We've all been through experiences weirder than we've ever imagined. Still, despite all of the danger and all that stuff we've been through, it's been kind of fun. We've rekindled hope for a shattered world, had fun, and met new people…"

Daniel glowered. "Yeah, about that..."

He cleared his throat and adopted a suitably grim posture. "I found Cass."

-=(O)=-

"How many made it through?" asked Elder McNamara.

"Less than half of the total strike force," said Knight-Captain Gallows sombrely. "Several members of the Pride among them. Colvin and Glade made it through, but the rest…"

Rothchild just shook his head. "We should have seen this coming. We've saved ourselves from a tragedy, true, but it is a hollow victory. Some of our best men and women were out there, and Elder Lyons is reluctant to provide any more help for fear of losing any more soldiers. You're on your own, McNamara."

McNamara sank into his seat. Ever since he'd been told about what happened to the attempted assault a perpetual pall hung over him. News of Veronica's success at HELIOS One had done little to ease the impact of the tragedy, and it showed; he had barely eaten or slept since the incident and there had been whispers that he had reached the breaking point. Nobody could really blame him for that, however. With so much happening in past months it was a wonder that he still maintained the semblance of keeping himself together. To Rothchild's statement, e simply remained silent waved at Ramos, letting the head paladin speak on his behalf.

"We're well aware of the consequences of this," said Ramos. "But our manpower is small enough as it is. A lot of our men are dropping like flies and we barely have enough of a force to protect ourselves. Without continued support from your chapter, we're as good as dead. We barely have anyone capable of fighting left save for a couple of scribes and knights, and we only have so many initiates left. If we are to continue this project, and we have to with what we've seen out there, we need a source of new recruits, and-"

"There is a way," said Rothchild, interrupting him. He just gave him a meaningful look that he had given in several discussions before. This time, though, Ramos didn't have that look of severe revulsion that he usually responded with when the scribe came up with the suggestion. Still, he persevered in his resistance.

"Yes, I know, but-"

"Enough of this talk," said McNamara. "We can't deny that the Brotherhood has experienced a great loss today. Many of our best paladins and knights went on that mission in the belief that it would save our world, and we can't take their sacrifice for granted. They succeeded, even if it came at a cost. Taking the mothership a secondary objective, and in any case it was a long shot to believe that we would have been successful in the first place. I understand that emotions are high right now, but the important thing to do is remain calm."

Ramos glared at the elder. "With all due respect, a lot of the people we sent there were our comrades, our friends. Brothers and sisters and arms. Right now we stand at a point where we have more enemies than we do allies. We need soldiers now more than ever."

"I know," replied the elder sullenly. "And it's time we started considering our options."

-=(O)=-

Silhouetted against the light of a bright blue sun, a man stood overlooking a planet untouched by the ravages of nuclear war. There was an entire galaxy of people like them out there living like slaves to a bunch of power-hungry parasites who believed themselves to be gods. He didn't care for gods a single bit, and found the idea of being chained to them repulsive. It would be his responsibility to bring light to these people, and eventually to his own.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this. All his plans, all his schemes on that miserable little rock had finally paid off. He was on the brink of a new dawn, a revolution for the galaxy. Future generations would thank him for what he was about to do.

"Despicable, isn't it?" he said. "An entire galaxy, forced to live like troglodytes under the rule of an inferior species. These people have no desire for freedom, no drive to see the light."

"Yes it is, sir," said the woman who had appeared behind him. "We should fix that."

"We may have destroyed our world due to our own hubris," he continued, "but what is Man without a little pride in himself? We've survived the gauntlets of Nature and conquered everything she has thrown at us. As such it is our destiny to do the same to the galaxy."

The woman just nodded. She was brilliant, he knew, but she preferred to keep to herself most of the time. He couldn't do much about that, but he didn't really have a problem with it. He had come up with more than enough ideas for himself.

He turned around and looked at the woman who had served him so faithfully. Robert House's left eye glowed with a faint blue light, but other than that he looked mostly the same as he did back before the War on Earth began, as a sharp-dressed businessman who gave off the impression of wearing power like a well-fit glove. He put his hands on his desk and smiled at the Courier knowingly. "Let's not tarry, then, Courier Six. It's time we light the fire that will make these so-called 'gods' know what it's like to burn."


	15. Arizona Killer I

**A/N: **And we're back.

**ARIZONA KILLER - PART 1 OF 3 – SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN**

SG-3 and the squad of Resistance members sat around a campfire in a little cave waiting for the night to come. Steakley had volunteered to take the first watch when they were going to sleep. The weather around this part of Arizona, this close to the Grand Canyon, had gotten colder as they went along. Winter was coming soon, and things were about to change with it. They were eating out of cans of old corned beef with the help of even older spoons. It tasted like overly-salted gecko droppings but food was food.

Captain Brasker put down her can of beef that had long turned into mystery meat and sighed. "You know, I've been thinking about this. Why did it have to be us?"

Lieutenant Hailey was puzzled. "Ma'am?"

Brasker continued. "Think about it. What was the last thing you remember?"

"Falling," answered Vega after a short pause.

"Getting shot," answered Hailey, with a pause. "At least six times."

"See what I mean?" said Brasker. "What do all those memories have in common?"

"You were all about to die," answered Scribe Anita O'Neill, stating the obvious. She listened to the captain's ramblings from time to time, even if only because there was nothing else to do out here in Legion frontier territory. She tried to raise objections the first time the Old World marine started doing it, but her subordinates dissuaded the scribe from doing so. Mindless philosophizing was one of the things that helped to give her some semblance of sanity, especially after the trauma they'd all been forced to go through following their defrosting, and sometimes even before then.

"Exactly," said Brasker. "What's the deal with that? I mean, the big egghead back at the main base said we were frozen, but nothing more than that. _Why _were we frozen? _Who _froze us? I mean, it just doesn't make any sense. It's like they just picked up a random bunch of dead people to heal with their magical technology shit and turned them into popsicles. Despite the mystery, though, I've managed to identify some sort of theme. Most of us are military, right? The civilians are somehow related to the military, too, but there are a few exceptions. As far as I'm aware, neither Weir nor that Canadian egghead was involved with any stuff, but you never know. They were probably working for Kinsey or something. Anyway, this leaves us with a couple of options for the _why _of it – I mean, it's pretty clear that this whole project was orchestrated by the DoD. I can't help but feel that this is somehow related to the event that made the world the way it is today. We were probably a backup post-apocalypse measure, like the Vaults that Leibowitz's crew talked about. Supposed to be unfrozen after the bombs dropped in order to help rebuild society or whatever – but something clearly went wrong, and now here we are."

Hailey shrugged. "Interesting theory, ma'am. Although, if I recall, Kinsey had already been impeached by the time I… died."

"Who knows?" said Leibowitz. He took a sip from his stale can of Old World beer. Like O'Neill, he just went along with the captain. "It sounds plausible enough to be true."

The captain nodded at him. "I've been stuck in shit all my life so I'm no stranger to this sort of situation but this is, _by far_, the oddest one I've been in."

"I'm sure we'll find some evidence along the road to either support or discredit your theory," suggested Anita O'Neill. "Sounds like a mystery worth solving."

The captain scoffed and picked up her can again. She shrugged. "We'll see."

-=(O)=-

Some say Rome's greatest achievement had been the development of its roads, which ferried goods throughout the empire from Gaul to Byzantium. These Roman roads were the veins through which the Empire's blood flowed, feeding its people and sending its armies wherever they were needed. Rome's greatest invention was the very ground that its citizens tread on, and it would only be natural for Caesar to emulate that. In a way, he had an easier time of it than his namesake did.

The skeleton for his grandiose project had already been laid in place by the Old World. The only real work that needed to be done was to clear up the highways, interstates, and other concrete relics that crisscrossed his territory. The network had been a success and served to cement the Legion's reputation as a tantalizing territory for many caravans. It was one of the Legion's greatest achievements, and like the others it suffered after the decisive defeat in the Second Battle for Hoover Dam.

Now, the roads were once again choked with raiders, rebels and bandits preying on the traders and travellers that chose to stick to the roads. Many checkpoints that had once used by the Legion to check caravans for contraband were now being used by rebels to demand exorbitant tolls from anyone that wanted to cross. Chaos, war and disorder reigned, and it seemed like every day the bastion of civilization established by the Emperor in Flagstaff slipped further and further into an anarchic wasteland.

He didn't care much about that, though. The way he saw it, it had always been a race to the bottom. The world's already a wasteland anyway, and he'd seen far too many attempts by these two-bit conquerors who fancied themselves as Napoleon or Attila to rebuild civilization the way they saw it. Sure, they succeed at first because of their natural charisma or lost technology or whatever advantages they had hidden up their sleeve, but sooner or later they either die horribly or tear themselves apart trying to build a new world in the shadow of the old. They thought themselves to be conquistadors. Sure, one of them could succeed in the near or far future, but he figured that the chances of that happening would just about be the same as someone punching out a deathclaw with their bare hands.

This road had been suspiciously absent of the regular crowd that often tried to fuck with him. No bandits, no de-Legionized tribals, no wild mutant animals. That could mean a couple of things, but in all likelihood it just meant the Legion had been here recently. They still had some measure of control, but fractures were beginning to show. At first they took away the more extravagant luxuries – exotic slaves from far-flung locales, valuable Pre-War bits and baubles and everything else that would've required extensive incursions outside the Legion proper. Nobody really cared about that except the rich centurions and loaded merchants, but it didn't stop there. The last time he checked, they were on the verge of rationing food and water just to further their insatiable drive for bloodlust and expansion.

He took out a sniper-scope and looked through it to the big concrete blocks that stood half-a-mile from his current position. These blocks had once been host to a Legion outpost, as evidence by the banners that hung from their faces and broken windows. These were defaced with a bunch of symbols indicative of the Old World. He'd seen them a few times, on several similar outposts before. They were all abandoned, of course, and it seemed to be a running theme now. He had a suspicion that he was following a trail of some sort. A roving loyalist patrol, maybe. It was one of the ways Caesar tried to maintain his waning authority, and by far his most effective tool at keeping what order was left.

He saw something on top of one of the buildings. A hand draped over an eroded Smitty's sign. Above it, a face, staring straight into the sky. Brown stains on the eroded walls – dried blood. A corpse. _That's new_. He found another close by, not soon after.

"That's new," he observed. His voice came out a harsh whisper, like he was afraid of someone listening in. He scanned another building and found two more corpses, one of them staring straight at him with an eyeless, maggot-infested face behind a broken window. This was getting interesting.

He returned the sniper scope to its rightful place near his holster, and put on his cowboy hat. He was wearing an old Regulator duster, a torn and tattered thing that managed to stand the ravages of time and his arduous journey all the way from the East. He had come in search of a better life, and he found nothing but the same old song and dance over and over again. He'd gotten good at going along with it, though.

He saw something in the distance that stopped him in his tracks, for a moment. In the distance, a figure sweltering under the intense light of the vicious midday sun. He took out his scope again. He adjusted it, calibrated its sight until he could make out that it was someone tied to a lamppost with some corrugated roofing attached in a T-shape that wound up making a rusty makeshift cross.

This one was a woman, and by the looks of it she hadn't been crucified for more than two hours, at most. She still had a chance to live, but unless he or someone else acted now her condition would deteriorate rapidly. Normally, they tend to die within an hour or so, but this one seemed to have spirit. She was breathing, true, but the air that flowed out of her consisted of no more than shallow gasps of desperation from someone trying their best to stay alive. Proper breathing technique was key to survival here, and this one seemed to be trained in that.

"You all right?" he asked. "Don't answer that, conserve your breath."

He had to work on getting the ropes out. It was delicate work, and he had to make sure that he didn't do any additional damage to her body along the way. He had to give it to the Legion, at least they didn't choose the rusty ones. He started working on pulling out the one attached to the woman's right hand. This elicited an anguished reaction from her, but only barely. What would have been a moan of pain came out more like a whisper.

The traveller grunted as he continued to untie the rope. The ones who did this knew their work well. Once he was done, he caught her body and carried her over to one of the nearby buildings. He cleaned up a bloodstain on the ground and handed her a cloak before working on bandaging her wounds. She gave him a grateful look and covered herself in the cloak. He recognized the thousand-yard stare that she wore, that look that the tired veteran donned once they saw their comrade die in front of them. Post-traumatic stress disorder, shell shock, combat fever, whatever they wanted to call it; it was the look that meant that you'd seen some shit.

He rummaged around in his bag and took out a box of Blamco Mac and Cheese that he started to cook with the help of a repurposed combat helmet. He figured that she would appreciate the carbohydrates. "You're going to feel weak and you probably won't be able to walk for a while," he said. "But from the look of it, you already know that. You can tell me what happened here later. Right now you need to rest up."

-=(O)=-

Columns of dark grey smoke poured out of the buildings and threatened to underscore the dominance of the relentless Arizona sun. Half of them had been reduced to rubble and the rest looked like they had been painted with a brush designed to give off the impression of erratic structural damage. They were all pockmarked with scorch marks and blast holes. Bullets weren't capable of this type of damage. Captain Samantha Carter speculated that it had to have been the work flamers or heavy explosives.

She found McKay mulling over what looked like a destroyed Legion "chariot" with a squad of soldiers and marines. She'd seen carcasses of such vehicles around the desert a lot, but never one that was intact. It had been one of the Resistance's goals to take control of one of those vehicles, but the Legion and its rebels had a frustrating attitude of burning everything that might fall into the hands of their enemies. They might be primitive, backwards savages but they were cunning opponents.

This had been the main base of operations for one of the Legion's biggest rebel factions. The empire was tearing itself apart, true, but many of its citizens still believed in Caesar enough to the point where they would fight to the last child just to keep his dream alive. The omen that this ruin presented didn't help to ease Carter's anxiety over their situation. They had a goal, but they had to make up a plan to get to it as they went along. McKay might be overly dramatic when it came to his constant pessimism, but she knew that he had a point.

What if they didn't win? What if they _did?_ What were they going to do then?

These weren't questions for her to answer. She pushed them out of her mind and focused on their current mission. They wanted something, and the search for that kept her sane.

She heard one of the nearby airmen shouting nearby. "Captain, ma'am! We found something!"

Carter rushed over to his position and found him and two of his squad members attempting to pull a half-buried legionnaire out from under a pile of concrete rubble. According to a medic, he was still breathing. She knelt down to help them as McKay just hovered over trying his best not to say something.

He couldn't stop himself. "_Why _are we saving this guy? He's the _enemy_."

"Because, McKay," Carter replied with a grunt. She tossed away a large concrete block and shook her hands in the air before picking up another one. "He could have some information for us. And please, shut up."

McKay tried to come up with a retort, but he just shrugged and kept silent as he fidgeted nervously with his hands behind his back. They enjoyed his constant bickering even though they wouldn't admit it. He was insufferable but his genius was undeniable. The constant ramblings about all his petty little problems had a calming quality to it that helped them to forget their own inner demons.

It took them half an hour to get the legionnaire completely out of the rubble. They helped him to sit up near one of the ruined buildings as he looked at them gracefully. If there was hate inside him, it wasn't visible in his eyes. If anything, he was thankful. One of the field medics rushed over to him and patched up the man's wounds. His skin was a mess of burn marks and a dizzying array of cuts and bruises. He winced visibly every time he was touched, but he tried his best to hold it in.

"Are you all right?" the medic inquired. She was dressed in a modified set of legionnaire armour painted with white and blue stripes designed to imitate the colours of the Old World flag. On her white painted combat helmet was a big red cross that helped to designate her role.

The legionnaire held in a breath as the medic poured antiseptic into one of his wounds. It stung, but he endured it. He tried to raise his arm and pointed weakly at the pile of rubble he was extracted from. The man's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "The weapons..."

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" The medic leaned in to listen. The legionnaire repeated it and fell unconscious shortly after. She nodded at him and kept his body upright before she glanced at one of the soldiers accompanying her. There were two of them at her flanks, keeping their weapons close just in case the legionnaire decided to get violent. She relayed the information to one of them. He started shouting to his other squad members nearby and ordered them to search for some sort of weapon.

They found it lying under the charred corpse of another warrior, this time a Legion loyalist. It was a gun, but it wasn't a model any of them had seen before. They showed it to Carter, who took it as eagerly as a toddler being given candy. The gun looked to be some sort of pistol with a small, glowing green strip on its barrel accompanied by an inscription near the bottom. "GLOCK 86," it read. The inscription had been worn down by years of use and it was clear that the weapon had seen better days, but it looked like it was still powerful enough to pack a mean punch.

She stared at the weapon, looking at it up and down and side to side. She'd seen this before, in one of the secret research labs she worked at prior to her ill-fated moon mission. Those were prototypes, however, and they looked a lot more polished than this one. She could feel the weight of it, heavier than the ones they made at that lab. This one had more metal in it, a lot more. On a whim, she looked down the magazine and saw that it didn't even have a compartment for bullets. On the top, though, there was something else. A compartment holding what looked to be a couple rows of circular Wattz-brand batteries that she'd also never seen before.

She was so giddy she could hardly speak. "Is this…?"

She didn't know when McKay appeared behind her. He was peeking over her shoulder. His reaction seemed more subdued. "Is that what I think it is?"

"An energy weapon," answered Carter with a nod. "I don't believe it; they actually managed to do it."

"Can I see that?" requested McKay, who started reaching for the gun much like a child would when he saw a new toy. Carter pulled away from him and scowled.

"Not now, McKay," she replied curtly. She turned back to the squads and ordered them to search for more weapons. She looked at the pistol again and slid the battery inside. There was a faint click which made her heart jump. She raised the weapon and pointed it at one of the many damaged walls that surrounded her. McKay was hovering over behind her, eager to observe the weapon's effects. He was trying hard to hold his tongue, and it showed. Beads of sweat were crawling down his forehead. Excited as he was, he still retained his eternal pessimism and worried that everything could go completely wrong. Carter couldn't blame him, but her excitement overwhelmed her cautiousness.

She started counting down in her mind and held her breath. _One. _She closed her left eye and aimed down the pistol's battered sights. _Two. _She pulled the trigger. _Three._

Carter was in awe. There wasn't any recoil. Time seemed to slow down as a bead of green light began to gather inside the gun's barrel. The light coalesced into a ball as it came out of the barrel, gathering more energy as it went. It flew out with no particular shape, an amorphous blob of glowing green energy that made the air heat up behind it. It landed on the wall and pierced it clean through, creating a loud _crack _from the shattered concrete that resonated throughout the area.

Carter was speechless. She held the weapon tight in her hand with a wide smile on her face. She put it on her holster and looked at McKay, who, contrasting as always, had a grim look on his face.

"My God," he said. "That was…"

Carter raised an eyebrow.

"…reckless!" he completed, stamping on the ground dramatically with his foot. "That thing could have _exploded!_"

"I was well aware of the risks, McKay," she said.

"At least you should have let me _examine _it first. I mean, based from the design alone it's clear that the pistol was designed with electro-magnetic induction in mind but if the mechanism used to power its projectile system had been off by even _one _bit then you could suffer a catastrophic failure on a scale that _could _have led to a critical meltdown of its power source…"

"McKay, please," interjected Carter. "I knew from the design of the batteries alone that this weapon was designed with advanced fusion generation procedures in mind. I mean, its loading chamber clearly had some sort of failsafe put into it because from what I could see, the outer workings of the gun…"

"No no no no no," replied McKay. "That's not what I meant. You see, if the magnetic bearings were off by a _fraction _of…"

They argued on and on about the gun and the safety implications provided by its theoretical and practical mechanics for quite a while. They didn't notice when the medic appeared beside them. She tried to pipe up and get them to stop, but they were too loud for her.

A nearby soldier noticed the medic's plight and stepped in by calling their attention with a clear, military tone. "Ma'am, doctor."

They stopped arguing and looked at the soldier. They had both turned red from the heat of their debate and took a moment to catch their breaths. The medic nodded thankfully at the soldier who left her to tell them what they needed to know.

"Ma'am, sir," she said. Traces of a Scottish descent were evident in her voice as she said it more like a rough "suh". "The legionnaire was rather forthcoming with information. You should listen to what he has to say."

Carter put her hands on her legs and nodded at the medic. "Thank you," she replied. "What's your name?"

"Beckett, ma'am," replied the medic. She was young, but as confident as anyone else who'd served a long and storied career for their country. "I was supposed to help the Queen's men at Borneo during the escalation before you came in and presumably saved us. Wouldn't know, our camp got ambushed by guerrillas before we could get out. Never knew what happened after that 'cept for waking up here again." She shuddered at the memory.

"I see," said Carter. "Thanks for informing us."

"Right, ma'am," said the medic. She led them to where a squad of soldiers and airmen were listening to the legionnaire tell them a bunch of stories. They started laughing together. As far as clichés went, this was just one of those things that happen no matter how much you tried to stop it. Whenever a certain group of likely-heterosexual, adult-aged males come together, it would only be a matter of time until they reach critical mass and start throwing sex stories at each other like it was fictitious candy.

"Good evening," she declared as the legionnaire was in the middle of telling them a wild story about a gecko that sounded extremely unlikely. He stopped right in the middle of the part with the sandwich-on-a-stick and looked at her like the gecko in a story had just appeared in front of him. The men did the same as they started saying "ma'am" and scrambled out of her way with flustered expressions.

She squatted in front of the legionnaire and gave him a friendly smile. "What's your name?"

"Caius Baculus," replied the legionnaire. He relaxed a bit and smiled back at her. "You must be their leader. I am honoured to be in your presence." His voice was calm, collected. A natural diplomat.

Carter nodded. "You seem to be a lot more welcoming than the other Legion soldiers we've come across."

"Caesar makes an attempt to purge us of our sympathy for other factions and he usually succeeds. We are not stupid, though. Merely ignorant. Believe it or not, some of us are actually quite sensible."

"Mhm," she said, rubbing her chin. "I take it you're with the rebels?"

Caius pointed to the crude two-headed eagle painted on his right shoulder pad in lieu of the regular red "X" painted on the decanus uniform. "I was a loyal decanus until word of the revolts reached us. It was then that we cast off our allegiance to the tyrant and made cause to fight for our freedom. Killed our Centurion and threw him to the dogs." He paused for a moment to recollect his memory. "Rebellion is rarely as simple as that, I've since found out. Try as he might, Caesar was never fully able to stamp out our tribal identities. Eighty seven, eighty-six, I've stopped counting. It didn't take us long to fight each other. It's chaos." He gave Carter a meaningful look. "You, though, you don't seem to be with either Caesar or the defectors. Who are you? NCR?"

Carter shook her head. "Don't know what that is. It's a complicated story. To put it short, we're the Resistance."

Caius tried to laugh, but he started to cough and stopped. "Apologies," he said, clearing his throat. "It's such a bland name, don't you think?"

She just chuckled and shrugged. "Well, I don't come up with the ideas. What can you tell us about what you were doing here?"

"We were making chariots," he said. "Caesar's dogs struck in the middle of the night. They called him the Ghoulslayer. Ghastly man, he was." He shuddered. "His tribe's known for using energy weapons, and rightly so. I was coming back from a trading expedition when I saw the flames. By then, it was too late to do anything. I tried to fight back but they made short work of my men. I was lucky. Don't know what happened to the rest. Likely forced into slavery or crucified to pay for their 'sins'." He looked around. "Looks like they put up quite a fight, however. Good men." He shook his head solemnly.

"I see," said Carter. "Is that all?"

"There's something else. Our main asset is an extensive storage garage that the Old World once used for storing war vehicles. We have been using it to manufacture chariots for use in the battlefields of the East. After Dog City, it fell to us to distribute these vehicles to the rest of our brethren who wanted to wage war against the tyrant. It's underground, so it's unlikely that the loyalists destroyed it. We executed our Frumentarius the same time we did the Centurion, and we keep secrets well. They wouldn't have found it."

"Can you tell us where it is?" inquired Carter.

"I will lead you to it," he said.

They accessed the garage through a cleverly-hidden ramp in an old parking building that had been converted into a management centre for processing paperwork that formed the backbone of Legion society. Even though the rebels had deserted Caesar himself, they still made good use of his ideas and were no less bureaucratic than the loyalists. Logistics, like air, was always there. An army may have the best equipment around, but they might as well be nothing if they can't get it to their soldiers properly.

The once-foreboding sight of the grey metal cabinets and seemingly-infinite stacks of papers that once dwelled in the building had all been reduced to ashes and cinder by the recent raid. Caius recalled the sight of them and the buildings around it burning like a second sun the night they were attacked by the Ghoulslayer's loyalist forces. The Legion made sure its centurions were tough, but that man was something else…

The first basement level of the parking lot was the main workshop harboured a couple of survivors from the earlier raid. Although they were suspicious of the Resistance at first, Caius helped to calm them down after an emotional reunion and started explaining what happened. He introduced the two groups to each other and it ended up being friendlier than expected. Both sides found a common enemy in Caesar, but they still distrusted each other enough to keep mostly to themselves.

They descended to the bottom level and found a massive expanse of spaces filled with old, decrepit vehicles that looked like hadn't been touched in centuries. Half of them had been taken by the Legion and converted into either scrap or chariot, and the rest were practically untouched.

"This is incredible," remarked one of the officers accompanying Carter and Caius, one First Lieutenant Mansfield. He was another veteran of the first Borneo conflict during the opening years of the 21st century; a paratrooper who had been presumed dead after his Huey was shot down by ChiCom operatives posing as local guerrillas. He had been a mechanic in his previous life, and Carter figured that he would be a great boon when it came to identifying what vehicles they came across, even if they were made after his supposed death.

Caius laughed. "That was our reaction, as well. Raiders have torn this land apart and ransacked whatever they could long before Caesar arrived. Still, there are still many pockets of the Old World that remain unseen and untouched. This is just one of them."

They walked through the alleys of untouched vehicles and saw that they had been arranged chronologically. The more recent models were the first to be scrapped by the Legion, and the latest ones left were made during the late 20th century. On the walls they saw various signs pertaining to safety regulations and warning workers not to be too careless.

"Machines tended to this place before our arrival," said Caius. "They kept everything clean, but Caesar forbade them, declared them a crime against nature. They were destroyed as soon as we found them. They had done a good job of maintenance until we arrived, as you can see."

"Machines?" asked Carter, curious.

"Robots," said McKay. "Must be."

"Don't be silly, McKay. That's just science fic…"

"So is that plasma pistol. Come on, where do you draw the line between what's real and what's not? Technology's _clearly _advanced even though everything's gone to crap."

He had a point. "Right. Doesn't seem to stop you from complaining, it seems."

"I complain only about _practical _matters, Sam."

She just rolled her eyes.

They reached the end of the walls and found a series of drab, olive-green World War II army vehicles lining the walls. Many of them had been reduced to their husks, but near the edge there were some that seemed to be mostly intact. There were a couple of half-tracks that had anti-aircraft cannons mounted on their backs, but their cannons looked like they needed some serious repairs before they could work again. More numerous, however, were the vehicles sitting idly next to them. They were six-wheeled reconnaissance vehicles armed with a light cannon and a heavy machine gun at the top. Its front armour still displayed the proud white star of the United States Army. Given the conditions and time since they were interred, it was amazing that the paint had managed to remain relatively intact.

"Grayhounds," realized Mansfield as soon as he saw them. "M8 Armoured Cars. These are practically ancient models. We stopped using these long before Borneo. Yet here they are, perfectly preserved."

"This is extremely improbable, but I digress," McKay said. "They must have been planning to tear these apart to make those horrid abominations," he referred to the chariots. Caius gave him a sour look. "Looks like we liberated another bunch of slaves, huh?"

Carter ran a hand through one of the cars. They were absolutely _caked _with dust. Those machines had done a good job of protecting them from centuries of neglect, it seemed.

Mansfield looked at her hopefully. "They look like they're in full working order, but I'll see what I can do to fix them up. Can you help me make them work, ma'am?"

Carter shrugged. "Not if we don't have any fuel," she replied. "Other than that, these seem like they should be perfect if we just add in some gas. I'm not entirely sure of that, though. I'm an astrophysicist, not a mechanic."

McKay scoffed. "Neither am I, but even I know fuel is scarce. And if we _do _manage to find some, how on Earth are we going to even get these to work after hundreds of years of inactivity? For Pete's sake, it's like trying to resuscitate someone after they ran out of breath five hours ago. It's just impossible."

"Nothing's impossible, McKay," replied Carter, ever the optimist. "We'll find a way."

"You _say _that, but…"

"McKay. Please shut up." He couldn't object to that.

"Besides," she continued. "They made those chariots work somehow and they didn't seem to operate on diesel or gasoline. If we can somehow use those power sources to our advantage, then we could be looking at armour support."

McKay piped up. "_If…"_

Carter was having none of it. Her hand rose up like a stop sign. "McKay. Please."

-=(O)=-

They were grunts, pure and simple. There were three of them, walking abreast between the tattered canvas tents and makeshift scrap-metal buildings of the main Resistance base. After careful deliberation from people that care about these sorts of things, the shantytown had been rechristened as Fort Nixon, named for the President in power responsible for, among other things, avoiding a probable stalemate in Vietnam and for tactful resolution of the second Suez Crisis.

"And what did the Romans ever do for us?" asked Lance Corporal Woods, a black man with an artfully-groomed, shoulder-length hairstyle designed to attract as many females as possible. The attempted results he tried to garner from his design had yet to be realized, but he was confident that it will eventually happen.

"Let me think," answered Billy Valdez, a moustachioed Hispanic Marine who had eaten one too many Iguanas-on-a-stick. His bald head was an exercise in the monotony that had been instilled in every great American warrior; its shine could probably have made night vision gear obsolete if you shone a flashlight on it. "Concrete, the Catholic Church, science… The entire antiquity period as a whole, really. With the help of the Greeks, that is."

"Didn't they die, though?" said Joe Petrucci, a short Italian man with a combover who had a penchant for appearing when it was least expected. "Got destroyed by vikings or something."

Valdez shook his head. "Nah, Vikings didn't appear until right before the Norman invasion of England. You're thinking of the goths. And the fall of Rome wasn't really as definite as you probably thought it was. You're thinking of the Western Roman Empire."

Petrucci wore the expression of a fish being explained how to use a bicycle. "What do cowboys have to do with it?"

Their ruminations were interrupted by a Wastelander carrying a tray of things that looked enough like food to be passable as edible from a distance. Some of them weren't even moving.

"Iguanas?" he offered. "Onna stick?"

Woods raised an eyebrow and looked at the merchandise. "Uh… no thanks."

"That's just means it's more delicious, sir. Special offer, five caps. And that's feeding me to a Deathclaw, mind you."

Woods reaffirmed his stance and shook his head. "No thanks."

He jostled past the vendor and walked past the main command tent thinking about what he should bring to his search party. Inside the command tent, Maybourne stood over a table with a map of the Arizona area, marked with crude figurines designed to note down places of interest and troop positions.

In situations like these, people like him would often put their hands down on the table's surface and wear a contemplative face as trusted advisors would detail the intricacies of some sort of plan or reveal information to them, rolling out details that would have satisfied an invisible audience's need for exposition. He did exactly that.

"Let's start," he said.

As if on cue, a bespectacled, bookish young man whose glasses glinted in the sunlight flipped up a piece of paper on his clipboard and cleared his throat. "Well, sir, based on what current evidence we've gathered, the war that caused the collapse of the American nation may have resulted from a sharp decrease in petroleum and other oil products. Plastics are virtually non-existent, asphalt has been mostly replaced by concrete, and…"

Maybourne held up a hand. He looked at Carter and gave her a nod.

"Well, sir," she said. "Things seem to be progressing well on the salvage front. We've managed to get some of the cars up and running with what seem to be nuclear fusion engines, and according to Belcher's team the guns are fully operational. We haven't really tested them out on the field yet, but we're confident that…"

"Do we have enough cars?" asked a fatigue-clad Army sergeant whose Chevrons had nearly faded away.

"I'm not sure," said Carter. "You'll have to check with one of the…"

"Do they work, Carter?" asked Maybourne, getting straight to the point.

"Yes, sir."

"What about their mounted guns?"

"Almost operational, sir. Like I said, I still have to check with the teams."

"Good to know, Carter. What about communications?"

"We've managed to establish contact with most of the bases so far, sir. East is still dark. We've been picking up signals from the outside as well, so it seems that at least _some _parts of civilization are still intact. We were particularly interested in a strong signal coming in from what looked to be a radio station out west, however. If the rumors are true, then perhaps Vegas truly is the only city left intact after this supposed war."

"Ironic that the only place to survive the end of the world is a den of sin and vices," commented a middle-aged, grey-haired man wearing a loose black robe nearby. He almost laughed. "My, the Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't He?"

They called him Chaplain, and as far as names went it was as accurate as they came. He had been providing counselling services to both the popsicles and the freed slaves ever since he'd been found, and Maybourne found his exceptional grasp on the Latin language useful in getting information out of captured legionnaire prisoners. He fancied himself a righteous Crusader fighting for justice in a world overrun by Satan's minions, and the state of the Wasteland only seemed to prove him right. He'd already garnered a strong, zealous, and almost cult-like following amongst the more religious soldiers and Maybourne was more than willing to turn a blind eye to it since he could use it for his – no, America's, ends.

Carter had a bad feeling about the way the colonel did things, especially in regards to the Chaplain's group. She was a woman of science and rationality after all, and although she had no problem with religion she did object to the way that faith was being used for the sake of violence. She knew better than to present her ethical objections to Maybourne and the rest, though. With the way the world was going right now, she couldn't exactly afford to get on a high horse, an animal which had probably gone extinct, and proclaim herself innocent of any had spent a lot of time thinking about whether or not they were doing the right thing when it came to reviving America, and in the end she realized that it was the only thing they _could _do. It's not like anyone had any better ideas, after all.

Chaplain went on. "If I may continue this discussion, colonel… Ahem. It has come to my attention that the heathen faiths have overcome this land. As an ordained bishop of the Most Holy Church, I believe that it is my duty to spread the gospel to the poor, huddled masses that lie beyond our walls. If you…"

"Say no more," said Maybourne. "Do what you need to. The men's morale need a boost, after all, and nothing works better than knowing that God is on our side. He is, isn't he?" He chuckled.

Chaplain merely grinned at the joke and bowed gracefully in front of the colonel. He laughed the standard, fake laugh that people always did when someone did a joke that didn't seem particularly funny. "Indeed he is, colonel. I will attend to the men. God be with you."

Maybourne nodded and waved the man away. He turned to look at his council and raised an eyebrow at their seemingly disappointed expressions.

"What?" he asked, as if he was being accused of doing something wrong.

"Keeping that man around is a bad idea, sir," said an Air Force captain who looked like something out of a comic book. From his enviable face to the way he carried himself, his appearance practically screamed "pilot". With no planes around to fly, however, his role had basically been reduced to Pampered Infantry Pending Operational Viability. "I mean, faith isn't bad and all, but with the way he runs things…"

Maybourne dismissed the pilot's concerns. "Nothing to worry about, Ryan. People need something to believe in." He moved on to the next concern before anyone could move to object his decision. It was an accepted principle of leadership that you should always change the topic when things are about to get uncomfortable. "Moving on."

Everyone just went along with it. There was a moment of anxiety from those who hadn't spoken yet, everyone waiting for someone else to speak, hoping to hell that they didn't get chosen to speak first. Their fears were alleviated when one of the Marine gunnery sergeants stepped inside wearing a makeshift brownish-yellow camouflage uniform crafted from Legion cloths by one of the few popsicles who had some semblance of tailoring skill. He stood to attention once he entered the tent and delivered a sharp salute facing Colonel Maybourne.

"Sir!" said the Marine, his voice bellowing out in a manner customary to gunnies. "Requesting permission to…"

"Go ahead," said Maybourne.

The gunny dropped the salute and nodded at Maybourne. "Another successful raid, sir. We've managed to capture several soldiers and an officer from the pseudo-Roman army. Several artillery pieces have been taken as well – mostly mortar cannons and rocket launchers. They still work. As we speak, my best men are in the process of interrogating the…"

Maybourne interrupted the gunny's address and held up a hand to silence him. "Good to know. Send the rest to me in writing. We need to get as much information from the officer as possible. If you need help translating what needs to be said, get Chaplain to help. If he's not available, find one of his students."

The gunny grinned and saluted again. "Yessir! Hooah!" He did an about face and marched out of the room.

Captain Ryan gave an exasperated sigh. "Marines…" he said, shaking his head. "Always so gung-ho about everything."

"That's why we love 'em," replied Maybourne with a grin. "And, of course, moving on. With that piece of intel in mind, it seems like we have to move ahead of schedule. Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to discuss the main reason why I called this conference."

A bald Army sergeant with a pencil moustache who for some reason had a British accent raised his hand. "Aren't these scheduled, sir?"

"Aside from that," said Maybourne. "Let's talk about New Ravenna."

The bookish young man with the spectacles raised his hand again. "Sir, if I may?"

"What is it, Pines?"

"With all due respect, sir, should we really be discussing these matters if the spy is still present?"

"Look at it this way, Pines," explained Maybourne. "If they have spies, and we haven't found them, then logically they would have known what we've discussed here anyways whether we'd have wanted them to or not. Now, the obvious alternative would've been not to discuss the plan at all. This would leave you, my most trusted councillors, in the dark. That would be pretty undesirable, and in the end it would only serve to stifle our plans. I _could _of course talk to you about the plan one by one to keep you informed, but it's highly likely that one of you _is _the spy, so you'd find out about it any way, and eventually you'll all start distrusting each other since you _know _that one of you is the spy. In the end, the mind games will just end up destroying us all and we'll be none the better for it. The best solution would simply be to pretend that he doesn't exist and go on planning as we always have."

"But we'd be playing right into their hands, sir!"

"Exactly."

"That… that doesn't make any sense sir. They'll know our every move."

"And that's the key to it. If they know our every move, then we'll be free to make what plans we need to without risk of having to conceal it. This is how things work, Pines."

The man found nothing with which he could respond with. This was the kind of logic that made a certain kind of sense that looked very much like insanity. With the things they'd seen, however, insanity actually looked like a rather enticing proposition.

Carter plowed through it and raised a question. "Do _we _have a spy in their midst, though, sir?"

He smiled. "Maybe we do, maybe we don't. If I knew, that kind of defeats the purpose of it, doesn't it?"

"But if you can't make use of the information, then why bother having a spy there in the first place?"

"It's the principle of the thing, Carter. We need to have an even hand."

"I'm confused, sir. You know for sure that there's a spy here working for the Legion, and you're suggesting that we have-"

"May or may not have."

"- a spy among them. And it doesn't matter to if you if all our plans are discovered by the spy working with us."

"He could be a double agent, Carter. And he could be a she, for all we know. Nothing's for certain until we've completed our investigations. This is why I said it's better to assume that he – or she – isn't present at all." He changed the topic as quickly as he could. "Can we move on, folks?"

Carter didn't quite get it, but she nodded anyway. This wasn't her line of work. Letting things remain like this was probably suicide, however, but questioning it further would be even more so. "All right, sir."

"New Ravenna… Formerly known as Seligman, Arizona. I've been told that it was mostly popular because of Highway 66, but that's not really relevant right now. Way before the event at Hoover Dam, this place was supposedly one of their main training camps. After they started retreating from the West, they spruced the place up and converted it into a border fort to protect against whatever's coming from that direction. It's said to be impenetrable, but I believe we've found an interesting weakness."

"What would that be, sir?"

He grinned. "Well, for one thing – their defences are facing the wrong direction."

-=(O)=-

Two vertibirds flew past the hotel balcony with their spotlights shining down on the streets below. A brief fracas had been reported somewhere nearby, likely some stubborn Kings who refused to give themselves up. Vulpes watched them fly by with his hands placed squarely on the railing, thinking to himself. At this time of night, subtle propaganda could be heard blaring from speakers place strategically around the city, reassuring the citizenry that House would keep them safe and lead them to a better tomorrow. It grated on him, but he tried his best to ignore it. It would be unwise to draw any more attention to himself in these delicate times.

It was getting harder to do this sort of thing these days. House didn't even stop to rest after his victory at Hoover Dam to consolidate his power as one would expect from a warlord, instead he kept advancing, yard by yard with his seemingly innumerable army of machines. His pace was slow, enough to give legionnaires ample opportunities to retreat, which they didn't as that would be cowardice thus leading to them being slaughtered in droves, but it seemed to be unstoppable. Vulpes cursed himself for underestimating the weasel of a woman that allowed House to gain as much power as he did, a mistake he wasn't willing to repeat again.

He closed his eyes and held his breath. Behind him, the shimmering holographic ghost of the Ghoulslayer stood awaiting his command, coloured a bright monochrome green from the strange device projecting the light on the table. He was wearing his own set of Centurion armour, its metal forged from the husk of a dead Brotherhood Paladin's power armour with the markings of his successful battles engraved like medals on his chest. His face was shrouded by a gasmask that always seemed to obscure his face, and his voice. It often came out a husky, filtered thing, like a radio transmission with far too much static in it. As far as centurions went, he was… unique. Vulpes knew that his image was meant to project fear and intimidate those who would try to challenge him, but he knew better than to be affected by it. This was his territory, and he knew it well.

Vulpes broke the silence. "The mission?"

"Just as you asked," he replied. "They're moving as predicted. It's only a matter of time until recovery is assured."

Vulpes gave the ghost of a nod. His captures had proven to be an effective tool in exposing some of the outer Resistance cells in the area, and he guessed than almost half of them had been recovered. With the Ghoulslayer's help, the rest could easily be rounded up in one go once they proceed with their "attack". He turned around and looked at the sickly green hologram in front of him.

"And what about this 'special equipment of yours?"

He thought he saw a smirk behind that opaque green wall that concealed his face. "It works."

That was good enough. "Get to work."

The Ghoulslayer acknowledged the order in silence, and his image faded to give way to the hotel room's darkness. Another vertibird flew past the balcony, this time with loud red and blue sirens that symbolized the illusion of order that ruled Vegas. Caesar had wanted to take this city for his own, to turn it into the empire's true golden capital, to use it as a springboard for the final battle against the West. It was a dream that he worked hard for, and in the end it all came crumbling down because of that woman. She had been a promising prospect for the Legion, and it was an understatement to say that her betrayal had troubled him greatly. Every night, he dreamt about a million and one ways to torture and to wreak his vengeance on her, and every day it seemed like she kept worming her way into his thoughts like an unwelcome parasite.

_Could it be another one of her tricks?_ he wondered. _She is an enemy, no more than a clever pest with too much help on her side. And yet…_

Vulpes tried to push the thought aside. He had a mission to finish. He'd heard reports that House's machines had gone erratic recently, and he figured this was a good a chance as any to finish what he should have done a long time ago. With the NCR gone, he and his small contingent of agents should be able to find a weakness, a hole in the ghost warlord's armour without much trouble. There were plenty of people who were unsatisfied inside House's supposed Pre-War utopia, and it's simply a matter of putting the right words inside the right ears. He knew that his chances of success were growing smaller by the day, but he had to try. Vulpes was aware of the precariousness of his position, and he didn't like it one bit.

He went back into the room and closed the balcony doors. He set to work on forging a resistance of his own. There was work to be done, and if he wasn't the one to do it, then all would be lost.

-=(O)=-

"So, there's one thing I don't understand."

"What is it, Veronica?"

"If that was House you saw, and he went through the Stargate and hijacked the mothership, with Six, I might add… Then who's running the show back in Vegas? It doesn't look like the city collapsed, and according to the radio it seems like he's still pushing east and the robot police are still working overtime. What's going on?"

Elder McNamara shook his head. He had nothing to give but empty answers and speculation. "We don't know, Veronica. And we're not in any hurry to find out soon. We may have won against those motherships, but we're weaker than ever." He looked past the window and saw another squad in radiation suits dragging burnt corpses still locked inside their armour through the gate. "We won't be receiving any help from Lyons either. He's withdrawing most of his staff here, save for Rothcihld and some of the other scribes. SG-2 is supposedly still on the way, but it appears that they've lost contact with him. There's something going on out there related to an Institute or a Commonwealth, apparently, but that's none of our business. You take a moment to relax, Veronica. You've earned it, after all you've been thorugh."

"I guess I'll just… leave you here, then," she muttered. She made her way out of the room and took out the strange disc she got from Yes Man. She needed answers, but it had been a long day and she needed some way to unwind. She hid the strange device and went back to her duties.


	16. Sympathy for the Devil I - Underdog

**A/N:**I'll be following an alternating chapter scheme for this act of the story, so don't get confused by the sudden change.

**SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL - PART 1 OF 2 - UNDERDOG**

McNamara and Rothchild stood in the half-illuminated darkness of the elder's quarters, having received the grim news from the East.

"It's… unfortunate, yes, but we've been expecting it for quite some time. I suppose it's up to his daughter to carry out his burdens. Just when we were on the brink of recovering from the incident, this pops up. It seems that there's no end to our misfortune, is there?"

"How could they be so blind?" asked McNamara. "The holy grail of prewar technology is right here yet they still run around picking up the pieces of a world that had already been broken a long time ago. They are aware of its presence, and they even tried to seize it, but now they seem to treat it as little more than a novelty. I will admit, I used to think that way as well but as recent events go…"

"Priorities, elder," replied Rothchild. "What purpose does the Stargate have if we can't even use it because enemy forces are bearing down on us? The recent disaster only exacerbates matters, especially given the casualties we've sustained during the operation."

"It was an oversight. Had we known that the enemy would rather kill themselves than hand their technology over to us, we would have reacted to the situation accordingly. I know it's ironic, given our own attitudes, and we should have expected it. We didn't have enough time to react and given the circumstances, and of course the alternative, it seems like a small price to pay. And don't forget - we were _winning,_Rothchild. That cannot be ignored."

"I am fully aware of that, elder. The fact remains, however, that there is trouble in the east and as it stands the fate of our whole chapter may rest on it. It is, simply put, a matter of life and death. We _have_to go back."

"I see," said McNamara. He sighed. "If you have to, then to do so. Your chapter has gone above and beyond the call of duty, and you are beyond my jurisdiction. I can only hope that Owyn's daughter gives your chapter the direction that it needs."

"I hope so as well. We'll be leaving behind some personnel to help in your projects – mostly scribes. Some of the paladins have requested permission to remain here as well. In the absence of direct orders from the elder, I'm placing them under your control. God knows you need all the manpower you can get. Speaking of which…"

McNamara nodded. "I know. It's a radical decision, but I can only hope that they can see the wisdom in it. They're resilient, free from radiation and above all they can't sell us out to the NCR. Their civilization is still quite primitive but I'm sure that can be easily rectified. The scribes will have more than enough to do for once. As for technology, we'll be handing over some of the more common alien technologies we've found and a crate of naquadah for your chapter to utilize. Use it well. I know it will take years of research for you to fully understand, but when you do I'm sure it will be well worth the effort."

"I'm glad you took heed of the suggestion, elder. I'll make the proper arrangements for my departure. Good luck."

The elder nodded and shook hands with Rothchild in a farewell gesture. "God knows we need it."

"Remember your role here, McNamara. Everything you do sets a precedent for the future. All I ask of you is to lead these men down the right path."

"I will."

-=(O)=-

Teal'c struck out like a centaur and knocked Veronica flat on her ass with a quick lunge of his wooden quarterstaff. Veronica crashed down onto the soft mat under her and let out a groan of pain.

"You must work on your balance, Veronica Santangelo," remarked Teal'c. "You are far too reliant on your fists."

"I like fisting," she complained.

"That may be, but your over-reliance is, as you say, a crutch," replied Teal'c, missing the joke completely. He tossed her the quarterstaff that she'd been wielding earlier. "You must become more versatile. Again."

"Right," she muttered. The training was tough on her and it grated on her at times, but she knew she needed something to keep the edge off. Here, she didn't need to think about Cass, nor about the big bad Goa'uld who took up residence in her, or Six's little gift in the form of her chip. There was only the pleasant, primal feeling of physical combat. It made her feel alive; especially now that she'd met someone who matched her skills when it came to unarmed fighting. The staves were Teal'c's suggestion, though, and she agreed that she could use the additional training.

Arcade was leaning on the doorway and watching them. He had a genuine bagel in his hand, a recipe that someone from the first expedition had given to one of the Abydonians. He'd acquired a great fondness for them, especially since the taste of fresh, non-irradiated bread was a rarity in the Wasteland. He took a bite of it and savoured the taste for a few moments before Veronica took a glance at him. The distraction gave Teal'c all he needed to knock her down again.

"Your eyes wander, Veronica Santangelo," said Teal'c. "You must _focus_."

"Dammit," she muttered. She waved a hand dismissively at Arcade. "Go away, doc. I'm trying to beat this guy over here."

"It is highly unlikely that you can defeat me with your current technique, Veronica Santangelo."

"I can try," she retorted, smirking. "Come on, let's go again."

Arcade shrugged at her and started continuing his morning routine as he walked throughout the facility. It had become a thing for him to walk around, exploring the corridors of the vast underground base that the Brotherhood now called home. With House's Securitrons out of the equation, he no longer had to fear crossing their paths and somehow ending up angering the invisible man who ruled it all. The Brotherhood seemed to view him as less of an outsider now, although they still held some reservations. There's no better way to get people to like you than to fight with them against a common enemy, he supposed. His walk was interrupted when a group of Capital Wasteland scribes started trudging through the corridor, pushing around a makeshift forklift full of meticulously-labelled metal crates.

Curious, Arcade ran up behind one of the scribes and cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said. "What's going on?"

"Not right now, doctor," she replied. "We need to ship these over to the vertibird. We're about to leave."

"Leave?" he asked. "I thought…"

"Haven't you heard the news?" she said. She just left him hanging while she continued pushing along the forklift.

"News, huh?" he muttered. Curious, he headed over to the common room to get some answers. Along the way, he encountered more hectic movements that indicated that something big was, in fact, happening. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a woman burst into tears, being consoled by a knight in a set of recon armour.

"Elder Lyons is dead," he said. "They're packing up and leaving us in the dust. We'll be all alone, once again. As much as I may dislike some of them you have to admit that without their support we wouldn't be where we are today. I'm speaking positively, of course."

"Well," said Arcade. That… complicates things. All of them?"

"It sure as hell looks like it, doctor," said the Paladin. "And…"

A high-pitched, whining drone erupted from the intercom. The Pre-War alarm system seemed to be working well, thought Arcade.

"ATTENTION," declared a synthesized, robotic female voice. "ATTENTION." The system repeated the statement a few more times.

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks for a moment. After the robotic voice faded out, Ibsen's voice entered. "Uh, yes. All members of the Planning Council are requested to report to the briefing room. All members of SG-1 as well. That is all." A burst of static. After some whispered reactions everyone went back to their business.

_Planning Council?_thought Arcade. He wasn't aware that they'd already declared an official name for the group. As far as names went, though, it was good enough. He didn't have any particular objections to it, but he felt that it was just a bit… lacking. He didn't quite know how to put it. He supposed it was like replacing the title of _Hamlet_with _Royal Story_. It was a somewhat accurate depiction of the story, true, but it lacked something. He was sure he'd come up with a proper term for it later in the day. He always did.

When he entered the briefing room, he found more than a couple of seats empty. SG-1 sat where it always did, along one side of the briefing table while the senior staff sat on the opposite side. The empty seats, he recalled, would have hosted delegates from the other chapters of the Brotherhood that decided to assist in the project. In the early months, the row had been full. After alienating the Western chapter, it stood empty and nobody bothered to sit on their former seats any more – everyone was too used to where they were to move. Now the Capital Wasteland staff was gone. An ominous sign. At the helm of the table, Elder McNamara stood leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped in front of him.

Veronica and Teal'c, fresh from their training session, were dressed rather haphazardly in their combat uniforms. Veronica was chugging down a bottle of ice-cold Nuka-Cola and Teal'c, stoic was ever, simply observed. Daniel Jackson was stirring a mug containing a drink synthesized from an alien plant which he said was "pretty much coffee". Arcade sat down next to the doctor. They nodded at each other in acknowledgement. Elder McNamara cleared his throat.

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why I called you here today," he said. The senior staff nodded, all of them trying their best to look confident but their little mannerisms indicated at least a little bit of nervousness. Ramos was trying coyishly to scan the area by swivelling his eyeballs from side to side, subtle but noticeable if you try hard enough. A learned combat reflex which worked surprisingly well in social situations, especially coming from a position of authority. Schuler was silently tapping her fingers on the underside of the table. Scribes working under her usually took it as a cue to leave the room and end the conversation that when she started doing that. Lorenzo just sighed quietly, a typical response emulated by his subordinates thanks to their overburdened situation.

"Is this about the thing?" asked Veronica, referring to a rather scandalous situation that had occurred two weeks prior. "I swear, it wasn't me. It was Beaker. All I did was…"

"It's not about that, Veronica," said McNamara, shutting her down quickly. He got straight to the point. "Elder Lyons is dead. Aside from a scant few personnel that have elected to remain, the Capital Wasteland is completely withdrawing their support in order to reorient their attention to the East. They won't be coming back any time soon. In addition to that, they've lost contact with SG-2. They still have confidence that he will arrive, but his continued tardiness cannot be excused. We need a contingency, but one matter at a time. We have a lot to discuss."

He cleared his throat and relaxed his seating position. "First, and most pressing, is the issue of manpower. With the Eastern contingent no longer supporting us, our position is extremely precarious. Although they were generous enough to leave behind most of their equipment for our use, the implications of their departure are obvious. Key positions will remain understaffed, some even unoccupied. Our operating capacity will be reduced severely, and we'll essentially become sitting ducks. Easy targets for the Goa'uld, the NCR, and other threats may appear. To that end, I've already drafted a solution to our problem."

"Is this what I think it is?" asked Daniel Jackson, with a hint of condescension. He'd been expecting this for quite a while. His satisfaction was muted, however – he didn't want to seem too arrogant.

McNamara sighed. He had expected Jackson's response and was waiting for Gannon's. A quick glance at his direction, however, made him realize that if the other doctor was going to react he wasn't going to do it right in front of the Elder. "That depends on your assumptions, Doctor Jackson. We've decided to allow Abydonians into the Brotherhood. With reservations, of course. We _will_have standards."

Much to Arcade's surprise, there wasn't a storm of vehement objection from the senior staff. Ramos spoke up. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose," he muttered distastefully. "I won't object to it. We don't really have any other choice. All I can say is that there will be difficulties, sir. I know that we can't recruit Wastelanders like Lyons' chapter did, especially with the risk of the NCR discovering our operation. Although the Abydonians may be practically human, the fact of the matter is they're _aliens._And alien _tribals_, at that. Half of them can't even understand us, and the other half that do often end up misunderstanding us completely. How would you expect us to train them?"

McNamara cast a sideways glance to the two doctors, indicating the solution. "Doctor Jackson, Doctor Gannon, you will be instrumental to this effort. With Doctor Jackson's encyclopaedic knowledge of Old World cultures and of course the experience of several decades living with the Abydonians, and with Doctor Gannon's relation with the Followers of the Apocalypse, rehabilitation-"

"Rehabilitation?" asked Daniel. "I don't object to the idea, but I just find it distasteful how you people keep using that term. Rehabilitation implies that they're somehow _lesser_ than we are – that their way of thinking, their civilization, is an illness that needs to be treated. True, they might not speak our language, and true, their beliefs may not exactly line up with ours, but that doesn't mean that they're savages. They're still people, and we have to treat them that way."

"And respectfully speaking, doctor Jackson," objected Arcade. "No matter how you look at it, they're primitive. In fact, I believe that a vocal minority still believe in Ra and they've been causing quite a bit of trouble. They've been stuck where they are for thousands of years, and it shows. Tradition has its place, but times have changed. Sooner or later they're going to adapt, and it would be better if they had _someone_leading the way. If there wasn't, well, all you have to do is look at history. True, their adaptation is likely going to be driven by militaristic intentions but at least it's something." He looked at McNamara. "I only hope that you don't go full Caesar on them and-"

"Enough, doctors," said McNamara, frustrated. "You can have debates about the nature of your task later. Although you may find it philosophically objectionable, you will have to do it. Need I remind you that neither of you are actually members of the Brotherhoood? Please, hold your objections until after the briefing is done. We still have a lot to discuss."

The two doctors just nodded. They shut up and listened.

"I trust there are no objections to this proposal?" asked the elder.

"Would it matter if there were?" asked Schuler. "Either we do it or we're dead in the water. I'm not going to object, but I agree with Ramos that it's going to be difficult. Our scribes already have their hands full with all of the technology we're trying to understand. We'll have to halt our research on some of the more exotic projects in order to allocate enough instructors for these savage- err, potential recruits."

"Ditto with the difficulty," said Lorenzo. "We have enough problems with our supply consolidations as it is, and with the recent inventory reorganization we've been working way beyond our recommended capacity."

McNamara nodded at Schuler. "I suppose the doctors will help you with that. As for you, Lorenzo, we will discuss your predicament later on. Teal'c, I trust you will be able to lend your expertise to this initiative?"

"I will endeavour to exceed your expectations, Elder McNamara. I have a wide range of knowledge concerning the Goa'uld and I have had extensive dealings with their subjects. It will be useful in rehabilitating…" - Daniel, again, recoiled at the word. He knew that Teal'c was only imitating what he heard but it still stung. "…these Abydonians. However, I will do this after I return to Chulak with Bra'tac and my son. We have many tasks to finish there. I will be grateful if you can offer your help."

"I see," said McNamara with a nod. He opened a folder in front of him and inspected its contents. "What exactly are you hoping to do there?"

"I have matters to attend to with my son, Rya'c, and my master, Bra'tac. It is of great importance."

Ramos looked at him in curiosity. "We cannot allow you to act there without supervision just so you can attend to things that we don't even know about. Tell us, what are you going to do?"

Teal'c simply stared Ramos down gravely. "I am not at liberty to discuss these matters. If you are suspicious of my intentions, I can assure you that I will not do anything to undermine your goals or otherwise aid the Goa'uld. This concerns jaffa only."

"Chulak…" muttered Arcade. "No offense, Teal'c, but that seems like a terrible idea. We just came back from kicking their god to the curb and now we're just going to waltz back in?"

"Their forces are depleted," said Teal'c. "There will not be many trained jaffa left behind there. It is the perfect opportunity to strike back if you wish to do so."

"Out of the question," said Ramos. "Our manpower situation is far too dire for that. Besides, we're taking on enough risk as it is."

"Then perhaps I can justify that risk," replied Teal'c. "If you do not attack, then I will take the liberty of making this effort 'worth your while', as you say."

McNamara clasped his hands in front of him as a gesture of interest. "How?"

"There are many Goa'uld larvae on Chulak – one of the few places in the galaxy where they are found in great abundance. If you desire it, I can procure these symbiotes for your research, along with any technology that we can acquire."

Schuler's attention was caught by the mention of symbiotes. "Intact?"

"Indeed."

Sschuler turned to McNamara and held up her folder for effect. "Elder, if I may…"

McNamara held up his hand and sat silent for a while, thinking it over. "Bra'tac has proven valuable in expanding our knowledge of the Goa'uld, and Rya'c likewise. They have shown that they are willing to betray their masters, but how can we be so sure that we won't do the same to us?"

"I will vouch for their honour with my life," said Teal'c. "They wish for freedom just as much, if not more, than I do. If they ever prove to be loyal to Apophis then I will strike them down myself in front of you."

"Very well. You can't go there alone," said McNamara. "I will assign an escort team to assist you. You _will_be put down if we ever find even a single _shred_of evidence that you are attempting to undermine us. Do not mistake my acceptance of your service to us as leniency, Teal'c – as far as we're concerned, you're still a threat. For anything that happens there, we will hold _you_accountable unless we have overwhelming evidence that can prove otherwise."

Teal'c nodded. "I understand. I am willing to take the risk. If necessary, I shall die for it."

"Make sure you don't, then," said Veronica. "We care about you, y'know."

"We will discuss the specifics of your matter later, Teal'c," said McNamara. "Moving on, as a provisional measure and a method of training, the Abydonians will be inducted into a category thus designated as the Irregular Division. After finishing a required basic training period, they will essentially act in support or substitution roles for SG-1 and other future SG teams, performing operations under the supervision of personnel acting under the control of a staff member. Through this, we can both reinforce the amount of personnel in key positions while simultaneously training them for induction into the Brotherhood proper. Once their sponsors feel that the irregular's training is complete, they can refer said irregular to a staff member for proper promotion to the rank of Initiate. It's up to the discretion of the staff member to determine whether or not the training is sufficient. Once the irregular takes up the position of Initiate, they will be treated as a proper member of the Brotherhood, with all the responsibilities and privileges that it offers. Any questions?"

Arcade nodded along and absorbed the information. "Historically, irregular units have been mobilized by militaries in order to conduct operations that would normally be out of their scope. They're known for employing guerrilla tactics that the normal military wouldn't be able to perform. The way you describe it, though, it seems more like a reserve corps, or maybe a levy. I don't have any objections. I just feel like the term needs a little bit more clarification."

McNamara sighed. "Thank you for that insight, doctor," he said half-heartedly. "I'll keep that in mind. Anything else?"

Daniel Jackson raised an eyebrow and mulled it over for a bit. "Where does the language and cultural education come in? I mean, surely…"

"That's part of the irregular training program. In addition to standard operation procedures, they'll be taught along the way about how a member of a Brotherhood should conduct themselves. I've noted Doctor Gannon's experiences with the Abydonians and concluded that a regular classroom environment will not be adequate for their education, so hands-on training will be more productive."

"Makes sense," said Jackson. "However, I do have a suggestion. The Abydonians aren't _completely_resistant to conventional classroom teaching. All you have to do is convert that environment to something that's appropriate to their culture, like, say, emulating the environment of a village elder telling an oral tale. Their way of thinking is more mythical and based on narrative, so you have to take advantage of that. Tell them stories about the Brotherhood, give them something to believe in."

Veronica, finding herself about to die of boredom, tried her best to stay awake. Unfortunately, her willpower was lacking when it came to these matters. This was a battle that she couldn't win. Conceding defeat, she just buried her head in her arms and tried her best to keep her head down while everyone else talked about regulations and training procedures. Thankfully, she was mostly ignored while the discussion took place.

"Emulate the Spanish," entered Arcade. "Remember what Doctor Jackson said about their beliefs not lining up with ours. We can use those and introduce the proper concepts of how things work by explaining things in a way they can understand. Put it in the framework of their belief system. At first, they'll believe it's magic. That's not a problem, in fact it's an asset - go along with it. They continue watching how things work, see how it really is." He glanced around and saw that the senior staff's interests were quickly deteriorating when it came to this subject. He hurried it along. "An extremely simplified explanation of what I'm saying is that basically their belief system breaks down in the presence of these facts, and once their faith is shattered they'll look for meaning in something else. That's where we come in."

Daniel shook his head and began to speak up, but McNamara interrupted.

"We can discuss these matters at a later time, doctor. Any _other_questions?"

"What about weapons?" asked Ramos. "We only have so many Wattz, Winchesters and AERs, and we can't simply give them away."

"According to Doctor Jackson's reports, the Abydonians are already familiar with firearms, as evidence by their liberal usage of it against Ra's forces during our initial expedition. This is where the Cassidy shipments come in. I trust that those are still remaining steady, Lorenzo?"

"Y-yes sir," said Lorenzo, sitting up straight in his chair after attention had been diverted to him. "Ammunition, chems, and weapons are being delivered at a constant rate. There is a problem, though, sir. Although we still have a sizable discount on their products thanks to Veronica's agreement with the company's last CEO, we still have to pay the caps and our reserves are running low. If we don't find a way to produce any caps within this quarter, we may very well enter the red if the expenses continue at their current rate."

"I might have a solution for that," responded Schuler. "As you all know, this facility was designed to be self-sufficient in case of disaster. For unknown reasons, the garrison abandoned this area but that's not the point. We found several derelict fabrication machines in one of the facility's storage silos. According to the specifications we found in the data archives, they were supposed to be producing some sort of military-issue beverage right before the war broke out. Some sort of corporate partnership deal, I believe. It will take some effort to jury-rig them back to their original capacity but with access to resources outside the planet, it would be trivial to get them to, with a few modifications of course, produce late 2076-model Nuka-Cola bottle caps if we have the right samples. Given enough time, we could probably buy out an entire town if we want to."

"Noted, Schuler. Get those presses working. Lorenzo, keep up the good work. As long as we have those presses running, I trust procuring firearms wouldn't be a problem. Going back to the previous matter – about weapons, we'll be starting the irregulars on firearms instead of energy weapons. Once they've been granted the rank of Initiate, they'll be given proper training on the use of our standard weapons."

"I see, sir," said Ramos. "I suppose it's not that hard to make a leap from guns to lasers."

"All you have to do is move a little finger," said Arcade. "Not that hard, relatively speaking."

They discussed the provisions and regulations about the Abydonian recruitment project as length, and by the time they were done the sun was almost setting. Not that it mattered, though – underground, it didn't matter if it was night or day, and when it came to the environments of other planets, the day-night cycle of Earth didn't even matter. Veronica periodically fell asleep and woke up, feeling like crap every time she did. By the time she felt like she couldn't even muster the energy to take another nap, she was saved by the fact that Ramos was about to enter his closing remarks.

"…And I suppose that wraps up the matter of tactical training," said Ramos. "I'll ask Volker to collaborate with me on the creation of an irregular training manual."

"Send it out for review before you start distribution," said McNamara. "I suppose that should go without saying, but anyhow… I suppose that wraps up our discussion on the irregular training program for today."

"_Finally,_" breathed Veronica wearily. "I could murder an entire Brahmin right about now."

"Not yet, Veronica," said McNamara. She groaned. "A few more matters to wrap things up. The other staff members are already aware of this, but I suppose it's time you knew as well. We'll be forming another expeditionary team, designated SG-4. With the other two teams absent, it seems prudent that we add another group to the roster. Although we're short on manpower, that doesn't give us any excuse to slack off. To start with the team will have four members. We've vetted our list of candidates extensively and so far we've found four people who can fight the criteria - Scribe Grayson, Senior Scribe Light, Senior Knight Sable, and Paladin Cordoba. As always, there is going to be a period of introduction and training before they're fully introduced to the field. They will need guidance, and as such they will shadow you and support your next operations until such time as they've been deemed ."

"Fine, fine," she said, twiddling her thumbs. She cleared her throat. "I mean, it's not that I'm challenging your decision or anything, but… It _miiight_be a bit awkward though… I mean, some of them kind of, you know, taught me. And they're all higher-ranking than me. It's just weird, that's all."

McNamara nodded. "Understandable. Good of you to bring that up, because this brings us to our next topic. As a sign of thanks and as recognition of your outstanding achievements in the last operations, I'm granting you a promotion. As you may be well aware, the Capital Wasteland contingent of the Brotherhood modified their rank structure when they arrived given their extraordinary circumstances. Aside from just recruiting Wastelanders, they've also expanded and diversified their rank structure in order to suit their purposes. I found it prudent to borrow the idea and adopt one of their ranks into our own hierarchy. Effective immediately, we're promoting you in order to facilitate your role in future events."

Veronica was in the middle of rocking her chair slightly back and forth and almost fell down. Teal'c caught her chair and pushed it upwards. She thanked him with a nod and straightened up considerably. Shocked, Veronica took some time to answer. "I think I need to get my ears checked. Did I just hear that?"

"From here on out, you're being assigned the rank of Proctor. The position seems appropriate, given your experience. You occupy a special position in the chain of command that has never been seen in this part of the Brotherhood before. I'm lifting your restrictions on your usage of power armour – it seems only fair that you have free reign to use it, given the fact that you worked on it yourself and the possibility that we may encounter increased resistance from the Goa'uld in the future. Do understand that the rank comes with responsibilities. I can see that you need some time to process this, so we will discuss the matter at length tomorrow."

"I, uh…" she stammered, standing on the verge of hyperventilating for a few moments before she calmed herself down and took a couple of long, deep breaths. The rest of SG-1 looked at her with an expression of general curiosity. "Okay. Okay. _Okay._ Thanks, I guess… I mean, wow. That's great, and uh… Sorry if I sound a bit, you know, right now, so, uhm… Yeah. Thanks."

"And if there's no more questions, I think that's all," said McNamara, standing up. "Ramos and Teal'c, remain. The rest of you – dismissed."

Veronica waited outside the briefing room for a while and when the meeting was done she tapped Teal'c's shoulder to get his attention as he was coming out and smiled at him. "Hi."

"Greetings, Veronica Santangelo," said Teal'c.

"If you're going to Chulak…" said Veronica, pausing.

"I am indeed going to Chulak. Do you have any concerns?"

"It's about Cass," she continued. "Look… If you find anything…"

"I understand," replied Teal'c. "If we find anything pointing to her whereabouts, then we will relay the information to you as soon as possible. I am aware of the importance of this Cassidy to you. I will do everything in my power to retrieve her if she is there."

Veronica beamed at that. She playfully punched his shoulder in gratitude. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"One of what?" asked Teal'c. He never got a reply since she was already walking away.

The next day, after McNamara had introduced Veronica to her role as a Proctor and all the wonderful responsibilities it had to offer, she had called on SG-4 and Arcade into one of the instruction rooms in order to introduce them to the SG team. Daniel had been occupied at the time with assisting the recruitment effort on Abydos, and Teal'c returned to Chulak with Bra'tac and Rya'c alongside a squadron of Brotherhood liaisons so it had been left up to the two of them to show new team the ropes. Although Veronica felt nervous at the time, she felt that she did a pretty decent job of introduction.

"So, that covers the bit about intercultural contact, as Doctor Jackson so eloquently put it in one of his long, long reports," said Veronica. "There should be some stuff that I haven't covered yet, but I'm sure you'll find all about that in the dossier. Hope you guys learned something. I don't want to end up killing someone accidentally because of the leadership jitters. Feels weird being on the same level as Schuler now."

"Don't worry too much about it, dear," said an older woman with graying brown hair curled into a ponytail, wiping her glasses on a handkerchief as she let out a gentle smile. "We can handle ourselves. We may seem like a ragtag bunch of misfits, but I have faith in McNamara's abilities. He wouldn't have put us together in the same room if he felt that we didn't have potential." She was clad in crimson-red Scribe robes emblazoned with her family's crest on the right shoulder, with smaller versions embroidered on the collars. The crest was the letter "L" typeset in fancy Medieval lettering, with a four-pointed star in the background. She was one of Veronica's role models when growing up, and she admired her quiet conviction for things that normally went ignored.

Senior Scribe Melinda Light was a woman of considerable experience and knowledge. She married into a long and storied line of eminent scribes stretching back to the days of the Exodus, and her late husband often remarked that she would have been more than a match for the family's original patriarch when it came to intellectual capacity. When she was a Journeyman, her superiors often commented that she wrote like she was running out of time, and there was no end to her research output. Her two sons, an Initiate and a Journeyman Scribe, were promising young up-and-comers in the Brotherhood's ranks. Although she recently spent most of her days lecturing and working on the Brotherhood's lesser-appreciated scholarly duties, she was no stranger to combat and could hold her own beside any experienced Paladin.

"Can't wait to get out there," said a man with a high-and-tight crew cut wearing a dark grey jumpsuit and a Brotherhood-marked combat chest piece. He looked like he was fresh out of dry-fire training and the acidic smell of spent energy cells drifted through the air around him, faint but noticeable. Arcade seemed to find him more interesting than anything else in the room, but his interest was muted. He was the one member of the SG-4 team that didn't outrank Veronica before her promotion, but she found little comfort in that. She was one of her closest friends as a child, but after she discovered herself they started drifting apart. There had been a lot of things left unsaid. Their more recent interactions have often been marked with mutual disinterest and pregnant silences, especially given the fact that they shared romantic partners more than once.

He was Knight Alexander Sable, an adventurous young man who had a reputation being slow to anger when things got out of hand. Despite that, however, he more often than not got the mission done, often exceeding expectations using unorthodox methods of completing the objective. He was more than welcoming when it came to outsiders, and didn't respond well to overbearing authority. When he followed orders, he did it his way and his superiors knew enough to let him do his thing, even though they disapproved of his methods. He fancied both men and women, and was also notorious for leaving behind a trail of broken hearts wherever he went.

"Out to screw your way through a plethora of aliens, I suppose," retorted the other scribe, a pale young woman with her hair bound into a tight bun. Scribe Grayson had a sharp tongue, but she rarely used it since it often took a special occasion to get her to actually talk to someone. She was busy typing something down in front of a terminal, without looking at the screen. The way her fingers were moving, it sounded like a machine gun. She was a genius when it came to computers, and more often than not she spent her time with Ibsen and his crew in the robot pits looking for ways to tinker and improve their designs. Although her father, a decorated paladin, disapproved of her career path, and indeed, disapproved of almost anything she did, she pursued her passions anyway despite his protests. She had no regrets, and she was proud of it.

"Hey, they're basically human," replied Sable. "And like the good Doctor Jackson said, people are people no matter where you go."

"I don't think that's his intended interpretation," said Arcade. "But I suppose if that's the way you want to see it. You understand how the Incas died, right?"

"The who?" asked Sable. "My good doctor, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Arcade sighed and rolled his eyes. "Never mind."

Light simply chuckled at that remark. "Oh, what I'd give to be young again."

Cordoba simply sat at the back of the room, thumbing through an old _Grognak_comic book. It was the issue where Grognak encountered a bunch of extremely voracious worms with an appetite for scantily-clad women. He mostly stayed in the background, keeping to himself unless called upon. He had the kind of stealth that could only be called situational invisibility – his teammates often noted that they didn't know he was there until he said something, a feat that perplexed them due to the fact that he wore his suit almost all the time. It was hard to miss a man in power armour, but somehow he managed to do it. He sat there silently, making mental notes about the meeting. He had gone to other worlds before and usually at a combat role. Adding him to an SG team was merely a formality – with the amount of times he'd accompanied SG-1 and 3, it was only a matter of time before he actually became a member of one. He followed orders without question, and he never spoke his passions or his views. Unless he was called on, he was practically a mute.

"I'm sure Dr. Jackson feels the same," muttered Grayson. "Veronica- Er, I mean, Proctor, ma'am, respectfully speaking, is there anything else? I have other things to do."

Veronica nodded at Grayson. "Oh yeah, right. SG-4, I'm pretty sure you've all read the dossiers already so you should know what to do. I guess I'm just here to answer questions or something, so, uh, have at it. Any questions? Reactions? Song requests?"

Grayson casually picked up the folder next to her terminal and glanced through it for a few seconds. With her other hand, she kept tapping on the terminal, slowing down her pace to accommodate the fact that she was only using one hand. "No computers, no electricity, no firearms… Hell, they probably don't even have working plumbing. What are we supposed to do here? I was led to believe that being part of an SG team meant you recover all sorts of ancient technology. More ancient than Pre-War stuff, even, and somehow more advanced. I don't see how mingling around with a bunch of savages has anything to do with that, except maybe satisfy Sable's insatiable lust for anything that moves."

"Thaaaat's right. No phones, no lights, no motorcars," said Veronica. "Not a single luxury. Primitive as can be. Sounds like it sucks, right?" She sighed. "Look, I know you're looking for the fancy stuff right away, Grayson, but this is kind of like looking through the Wasteland for Pre-War scraps, only this time with less radiation. And bloatflies. You look for information, learn as much as you can, look for the hints that anything might be out of place. You know how tribals often get their hands on things they don't understand? It's like that. Most of the time they think it's some sort of magic artefact or they just take it for granted, using it for everyday life without knowing how it works, but… you know. It's like a big game of Find-the-Nuke. It might be there, it might not. Either way, we get to learn something new."

"And it's not just technology we're supposed to look for," added Light. "There's a wealth of knowledge to be recovered from seeing these ancient traditions in practice. Technology is a wonderful thing, sure, but there are other forms of knowledge out there that need to be recorded and kept track of. I think it's time the Brotherhood realized that. The so-called 'soft sciences' have been ignored for too long, as I'm sure Doctor Gannon would agree."

"No arguments from me," said Arcade. "The Brotherhood isn't one of the places you go to when you're looking for top-of-the-line socioeconomic research."

"All right, all right," replied Grayson, her tone resigned. She muttered something under her breath. "I know when I'm being lectured. I don't care. Just tell me where the technology is and I'll take care of the rest. If we find it, that is. Am I allowed to bring a robot?"

Veronica mulled it for a moment. She didn't quite know how to respond. "I'm… not sure. Is she?"

"Up to you," said Arcade. "You're the Proctor now, remember?"

Veronica nodded and thought about it. "I suppose you can bring one."

Grayson smiled. For some reason, that unnerved Veronica. She began to wonder if giving her that privilege was a good idea, but it was too late to backpedal now. "Just be sensible, Grayson. Anyways, any other questions? No? Then get ready. We're leaving tomorrow."

-=(O)=-

McNamara sat in front of the Brotherhood's banner in his office. The light streaming down from above gave off the impression of power and he was reminded of his responsibilities. It was a weight that always accompanied him, and by now he'd gotten used to it. "First, the talk of spies from what's left of the disgruntled administration who still remain in Lost Hills. Then the Capital Wasteland contingent leaves because of the death of their elder. And of course the ever-present threat of alien forces with the ability to obliterate us at any moment. We're stretched far too thin, and it will take time for the Abydonians to be accepted as a full part of the Brotherhood. The reaction to their induction is just as expected, I assume?"

"Suspicion," replied Ramos. "Complaints. Anger. The usual, sir. Some people are more level-headed, however. I'd suggest we give our men time and they will eventually come to accept them. Treating these aliens as equals, however – that's another story. Even now we're receiving complaints from our more… radical brothers, and of course from the outsider doctors, that some of our men and women have been doing less than exemplary activities in regards to these natives."

"No need to sugarcoat it, Ramos. I know full well what they're doing and I'm not happy about it either. I'm trying to find some way to fix it but it will be difficult. It's not a problem that's going to be solved any time soon, and the wrong move in this matter could be disastrous. We can't afford to alienate any more of our men than we already have."

Schuler butted in. "It doesn't matter. They're no more than tribals, and after living for thousands of years under Ra it's not like they know any better. If anything, our treatment would be seen as an improvement compared to what they went through."

"Yes, I suppose that's right," muttered McNamara. "It's not our main priority right now. Lorenzo, what's the status on the supply front?"

"We've managed to restore about half of the recovered suits during the Apophis operation back to working order. We've fitted most of them with naquadah-bonded fusion cores and modified them with improvements suggested by the Knights, but we still have a lot of work to do. I know you've heard this before, but we're overworked."

"Everyone is, Lorenzo," said McNamara. "I fear that things may never really come back to normal, at least the normal we've known before. Given the scope of our operations, I find it prudent that we should once again change our strategy. Drawing upon our history – as with the Enclave and the NCR, we once again find ourselves facing an enemy that we cannot ever hope to defeat given our current state of affairs without incurring great losses or even total annihilation. We are no longer the guardians of the Wasteland. We are no longer at the apex of the technological pyramid – those days were gone even before we discovered the Stargate."

"We're the underdog," said Ramos.

"Succinctly put, Ramos," said McNamara. "And we have to think like it if we don't want to stay that way."

"What about Veronica?" asked Schuler. "Assigning her a rank like that… it's unprecedented. Where does she stand on the Chain That Binds?"

"She doesn't," said McNamara. "The only person she has to report to is me."

Ramos sighed. "It seems like a terribly unwise decision, given her track record. Are you sure you did the right thing?"

"I trust in her capabilities, Ramos. We've underestimated her time and time again and it's often proved to be disastrous for us to treat her that way. I think it's time for us to acknowledge her full potential, don't you think?"

As the meeting went on about the Brotherhood's future, Veronica strolled past the office and made her way to the repair bays that held most of the power armour suits. She'd received a message on her personal terminal about a surprise for her, and she wasn't one to miss out on an exciting offer.

"Ah, Veronica!" said one of the knights with a smile. Corbett, a brash young woman who often teased her about her girlfriends when they were still initiates. "Ma'am." She giggled after saying that. Veronica supposed that the strange feeling of being a superior was something she would have a long time getting used to. "We have something for you. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way."

"Thanks," replied Veronica . "What is it? Is it a Fancy Lad generator? Please tell me it's a Fancy Lad snack cake generator."

The knight laughed at that. "Ah, not quite, proctor. Something a little less glamorous. It's still pretty neat, though. We found this on the corpse of a Paladin during the mission a few months back; one of the Eastern soldiers. We took the liberty of cleaning it up for you and restored it to working order, give or take a few enhancements."

She pointed at a suit that looked like a bulkier and more polished version of the T-45 sitting on one of the racks. Two of the other knights caught Veronica's glance and waved at her. She knew them both and waved back. "Ma'am," they said, accompanied by a giggle similar to Corbett's.

Veronica frowned. "You know, I'm starting to think that you guys should treat me with a little bit more formality. What can you tell me about the suit?"

"Sorry about that," said Corbett, who glared at the two knights. They were initiates, and her glance indicated that they were to be given a stern talking-to after this affair was done. They started working a lot more efficiently after that look. "In any case, this is T60 power armour. These things saw little distribution out in these parts, but apparently these things are popping up like candy in Pre-War facilities out in the East. Based on their reports, this thing's basically a step between T-51 and Enclave armour. We figured that you should have the honour of piloting the first one in our chapter. I took the liberty of clearing out all the bureaucratic stuff for you, so for all intents and purposes this suit is yours now."

Veronica walked towards the suit and inspected it. The knight initiates got out of her way and busied themselves with something else. Although the armour was marked with a variety of scratches, bumps, and painted-over scorchmarks, it looked a lot more pristine than her old T-45 Bullet-Eater suit. She reached out to touch it and felt the difference between their tactile sensations. Yes, this was clearly going to be an improvement. It'd take some time for her to get used to it, though, like everything else that was happening to her. "Wow. I don't really know what to say. Thanks for the free suit, I guess?"

Corbett let out a wide grin. "Welcome! Tell us if you need anything tweaked or whatever, even though I'm pretty sure you'll be the one to do the modifications yourself. That operation with the ships was a mixed blessing. For once, we finally have more suits than we have people. We figured one of them should go to someone who'd make good use of it instead of lying dormant in the storage room waiting for someone who isn't born yet."

"All right, then," said Veronica. "I don't suppose you still have those Fancy Lads lying around, don't you?"

Corbett shook her head. "Unfortunately not, ma'am. In any case, I'll leave you to it. Enjoy."

-=(O)=-

"Posters," said Scribe Cynthia Penrose, a (according to herself) bright young mind with meticulously-braided black hair who fancied herself the brains of the self-appointed Recruitment Initiative. Operating under the lax supervision of Senior Scribe Schuler, they were supposed to handle the recruitment of new Abydonians into the Brotherhood's Irregular Division, enticing impressionable young men and women to take the fight to their false gods. "We need posters, for sure. With fancy graphics and all. You've seen those Pre-War fliers up on the walls when we were travelling around, right? We need something like those. I was thinking we could have Paladin in power armour – T-51b, the good stuff, you know? And the Paladin is like, holding a huge ripper and he's about to slash this giant sphinx-head guy who's about to attack him with an energy staff. And under that graphic we should have a slogan like… 'NO MORE FALSE GODS!' or 'FIGHT FOR FREEDOM!'. What do you think?"

"Perfect idea, Cyn," said Knight Angela Monroe, a critically-minded woman who tried to see the best in everything even though she always ended up disappointed because she always changed her expectations last-minute. "Except they can't read English. You have to translate the slogan first, but other than that it seems like a solid idea for a poster."

Schuler, curious about the new developments on the propaganda front, decided to hover over the workers for a while and observe their progress. She wanted to have Arcade Gannon or perhaps Doctor Jackson's input on things, especially given their experience on these sorts of matters. Although she fancied herself to be a well-read academic, she considered herself to be more of the technical type – she could easily name each and every part of the human brain but heavens be damned if she ever tried to actually relate them to how people act. She may know the human body inside and out, but the human mind – it was a total mystery. While she had training in neurology and psychology thanks to the Brotherhood's extensive cache of Pre-War knowledge on the matter her understanding of them rarely ever extended beyond what she'd read in the textbooks. Beyond that, she felt like she was trespassing on territory that viewed her as an unwelcome intruder.

"Interesting suggestions," muttered Schuler, trying to recall a bit of knowledge from her sociological studies, "perhaps we should focus on our accentuating our image. It can't be that hard to get them to view us as knights in shining armour, can it?"

Penrose nodded thoughtfully. She scribbled down a series of notes on a hefty leather notebook that bore her name in carefully-kerned letters on the cover. "Yes, yes… That's a great idea, ma'am. Knights in shining armour. That's exactly what we are, aren't we? 'When evil forces are closing in, when there's nobody else to turn to, the Brotherhood is there to save you!' It needs a bit of tweaking, I suppose, but it's perfect. Hell, they already view us as heroes, so it shouldn't be _that_hard."

While he was talking, Schuler had went off somewhere. Penrose took little notice of it – she knew she had many things to do.

"What about the girls?" asked Monroe. "With that culture of theirs stuck in that way of thinking, it's going to be hard to get more of the fairer sex into our ranks. Now don't get me wrong, I like all of your ideas but don't you think it's a bit too loaded with testosterone?"

"That's a cultural problem," replied Penrose dismissively. "Let the Education guys handle it. Our job is inspiration, not reformation."

"There's still the matter of the language barrier, you know," said Monroe. "I don't suppose you're just going to dump all the posters on Ed too?"

The scribe thought it over for a moment and scratched away a series of scribbles in her notebook. "Yes, yes, that's right… I suppose we'll have to do away with the slogans altogether. Let the images speak for themselves. Like one of those old paintings, you know, from waaaay before the War? Just slam a symbol on that thing and they'll know exactly what we're talking about."

Monroe started playing around with a little toy soldier she found in one of the living quarters. "You should hit up Cordoba. I hear he collects Pre-War posters. One of his hobbies is restoring them. He might have something for us."

"Who?" asked Penrose.

"One of the Paladins. Doesn't really go out much, keeps to himself."

"Ah. Well, if you find him ask him about it. We need all the inspiration we can get."

"You know what else we need?" added a third voice. Scribe Hamilton, a chronic underachiever from the Capital Wasteland who occasionally had perplexingly good ideas, even though most of the time it's too late to apply them. "Dress uniforms. Pre-War soldiers had them, and I've seen pictures and they look damn good. Think of how many more recruits we're going to have if we dress to impress. I mean, power armour is good and all but think how much better they're going to like us if we have something a bit more formal, if you know what I mean."

"Attempting to recruit these savages is a waste of time," said Senior Scribe Mueller, who had just popped up out of nowhere. He oftentimes had the habit of walking into a room completely unannounced, which made him the bane of many a group of scribes who were looking to slack off. "They'll come to us. In any case, it's not a wise decision. I have no idea what McNamara has in mind, but we have enough men as it is. We can make more, but unfortunately it seems that most of the females these days are neglecting to perform their duty. And with Santangelo's recent promotion, they're starting to get ideas. It's disgusting."

"Oh, hello, sir," said Hamilton, trying her best to ignore his recent rant. "I take it you're not too excited about the Elder's recent decision?"

"Excuse me," muttered Knight Monroe. Mueller had a certain reputation when it came to women, and Monroe knew it. "I have something to attend to. Good day, sir."

"Good day," said Mueller, nodding at her as she left the room. He turned to Hamilton and Penrose, reviewing their works. Penrose's desk was a mess of doodles and potential catchphrases. Most of them had been scratched off, a strikethrough going through them as a sign of rejection. "Is this your job now, Penrose? What a shame. We needed all the men we have on understanding the alien technologies."

"Not my choice, sir," said Penrose. "Just doing my job. I figure if I'm going to do something, I might as well be enthusiastic about it. I'm trying to my best to be enthusiastic about it since it's my mission. No use doing a job if you don't like it, right, sir?"

Mueller nodded at Penrose. He often advised his scribes to enjoy their jobs. "Indeed. All the best for the Brotherhood, I suppose. I can't fault you for doing what I told you to. It's just a shame that your potential is being wasted on this… tawdry affair. Recruiting tribals? I know McNamara's desperate, but we're not _that_desperate."

Penrose nodded along. "I suppose so, sir."

Mueller stared off into the distance for a while and sighed. "Indeed… Oh well. I will leave you to your jobs. Take care."

Mueller went out of the newly-designated Recruitment Department and headed over to the place that he called home – the place where the magic happened. The facility's laboratories were sparse during the initial discovery of the Stargate, but after several SG missions and especially after combat operations against the Goa'uld the once sparsely-populated labs have grown into rather ample workshops that always bustled with activity, even during the regimented sleeping hours. There was an old Brotherhood proverb – "There is no such thing as rest for the Scribe". This is where the proverb was proven true. Research was always ongoing, and there was something new being made even while everyone else was sleeping.

Inside his office, one of the Initiates knocked on his door and peeked inside. He was holding a clipboard. "Sir?"

Mueller looked up from his research and raised an eyebrow at the initiate. "What is it now? Is it important?"

"A message from the Elder, sir," said the initiate. "About the power interruptions. These recent outages have been causing problems with normal operations, sir, and he asks that you tone it down."

"Tell him that those cannot be avoided," said Mueller. "Our energy research is going splendidly, and we are on the verge of a major breakthrough. If we cut down on power use now, then it will be a hindrance to our research. Respectfully speaking, I ask you to tell him that we still require full use of the facility power grid. I'm sure the other departments can make-do with a few seconds of outages every few hours or so."

"Very well, sir," said the initiate. "I will relay your message."

"See that you do," he replied. Once the initiate was gone, he sighed and stood up. He went out of his office and headed over to the room that held his personal project – a group of scribes and knights was always there, working in shifts. A test was about to occur, and the personnel were frantically scrambling around with terminals and blackboards, making last-minute calculations. A scribe took note of his attendance and ordered his peers to work faster. Mueller just gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

"_Trial number six-forty-three_!" shouted the scribe behind the windowpane. Beyond it, a knight in a hazard suit gave a thumbs-up and entered the decontamination chamber. There was bright blue light shimmering behind the window, which made it hard to discern exactly what was inside it. The scribe gave a nod to Mueller as he was given permission to commence with the experiment. Behind him, the scribes on the terminals began typing away.

After the experiment's third phase, the power system was overloaded and as a result it immediately shut down as a safety measure. Mueller wasn't surprised – this was a typical occurrence given the nature of his work. After a few minutes, the power went back up and the scribes started assessing the results of the latest trial.

"A decent enough increase in output," he said with a smile as he read the results of the experiment from a terminal printout. "Promising, but not enough."

-=(O)=-

It was designated P-067. Typical of most gated worlds, it was much like Earth was before the Great War, only it was shrouded in thick tropical rainforest, at least at the region where the Stargate was located. The lack of easy access to orbital reconnaissance made it hard for the Brotherhood to identify exactly what a planet was like save for the immediate local region around the Stargate at first glance. It had gigantic plants that looked like palm trees with canopies at altitudes that would have rivalled the Lucky 38, and all manners of strange creatures that the Earth hadn't seen in a long time walked around in droves, but Veronica felt that none of them were dangerous enough to survive the Wasteland. These creatures may have been tough, but they didn't have the advantages provided by FEV and radiation.

Arcade and Veronica had learned their lessons from their earlier ventures into tropical worlds, and adjusted their equipment accordingly. Daniel was already used to it, and so he went along with his usual outfits. Veronica wanted to try out her new suit as soon as possible, but she had to wait until after making initial contact with the planet's native population. The Eyebot scouts had detected a human village in the distance, and the control room scribes made sure that it wasn't spotted. They had learned their lesson after they'd lost too many drones to either wandering jaffa or just plain superstitious fear of the unknown on the part of the planet's natives.

If SG-4 was uncomfortable, none of them showed any signs of it. As always, Cordoba was clad in a full suit of T-51 power armour, and its self-contained nature made sure he was comfortable no matter where he was, whether it was a desert, jungle or winter wonderland. Light's reaction was understated, she was simply fanning herself lightly with a rolled-up piece of paper. Sable seemed to be enjoying it, as he was wearing a rather insolent grin on his face. Grayson took no notice of the heat or the humidity, even though her face was practically drowning in sweat. She was pushing along a large metal crate placed on a forklift beside their regular supply shipment. The crate was marked with the symbol of the US Air Force, and there was a large release valve similar to those on a back of a T-45 suit in front of it.

Veronica eyed it suspiciously and looked at Grayson. "Robot?"

"Yep," said Grayson, wiping away a bit of sweat from her forehead with a frayed towel. "Mr. House left this thing behind when he decided to suddenly just go away. It took a bit of time to get through his accursed code and anti-tampering routines but I managed to reprogram her."

Veronica looked at the crate again. It was a head taller than Grayson herself, and taller than any of them except for the T51b-clad Cordoba, but it seemed appropriate enough. Too thin to fit in a Securitron or a Sentry Bot, too big for an Eyebot. _One of House's enhanced_ _Protectrons_, she guessed. She supposed it was appropriate enough for the mission. "All right then. Looks like it's not _that_ridiculous."

Grayson just smiled. She tore her gaze away from the scribe to the rest of SG-4. "How about you guys?"

Sable had a twinkle in his eye. "The feel of a…"

"Sable," said Veronica, who knew exactly what he was about to talk about. Her voice was firm. "No. Not on your first mission."

"What?" asked Sable. "I was talking about the environment. Geez, ma'am…"

"You know full well what you were going to say," quipped Grayson.

"Oh shut up."

Veronica grumbled. "You two are quite the handful, aren't you?"

"Kind of reminds me of the first time we met," said Arcade.

"Oh shut up doc," said Veronica. "We're getting off-topic. Is everyone ready? We have to go look for the village."

"Take the pups out with you, Veronica," suggested Light. "As much as I'd like to go gallivanting around right now, I still have to set up the observation equipment and guard the gate. If you need either of us, we'll be right here. Besides, I'm sure you'll feel more like a leader if you don't have an old teacher like me hovering over your shoulder judging every decision you make."

"Mmhm," said Cordoba. He was busy fiddling around with a portable Eyebot charging station. "I'll stay behind as well on sentry duty. Mandate from Ramos."

Veronica blushed at Light's compliment. "Oh, uh, gee, thanks. We'll call you if we need you."

"And we'll answer it if it comes," said Light. "Go on now."

And so it went. The group made their way over to the first settlement spotted by the Eyebot, and the villagers there, after some rudimentary introductions from Daniel, gave them directions to the planet's capital. According to what they could glean from the locals, this planet was once held by a Goa'uld from the Aztec pantheon until several centuries ago when goa'uld named Shiva ousted his control and set up shop in one of the area's swamps. The culture was a strange blend of Indian and Aztec traditions, and Daniel remarked that such cultural syncretism was common when planets changed hands between Goa'uld lords. Arcade started arguing with him about that as they walked along the ancient stone avenues shadowed by the gigantic trees. Veronica took the time to inform Sable and Grayson about proper mission procedures while the two doctors were immersed in their argument.

Along the road to the capital they encountered a trading caravan that took interest in the planet's new visitors. Arcade and Daniel took the opportunity to assail them with a barrage of questions concerning the planet and everything they knew about it. The traders were happy to oblige, and the company helped to stave off the boredom of walking several miles to the city. The gigantic tropical rainforest soon gave way to a valley populated with wheat and corn farms, and as they journeyed on various inhabitants stepped out of their houses to gawk at the team and chat amongst themselves in typical bystander fashion.

By the time they reached their destination, the sun was high in the pale-blue sky and one of the planet's moons, which Daniel remarked as looking like a tiny version of Mars, was faintly visible on the horizon. The capital was built around a network of five Mesoamerican-style ziggurats arranged in what looked to be a diagonal cross pattern, with the centre pyramid being the tallest, looming all over the city with its shadow helping to act as a respite against the harsh midday sun. The city was surrounded by massive wooden walls with bronze-clad guards wielding spears peering over the parapets. Veronica couldn't quite make out what they were doing, but she assumed that it was related to routine city security stuff. By the time they reached the front gates, it became apparent what the guards were doing. They were greeted with the sound of bugle-like instruments and a lavish entrance ceremony that made them stop in their tracks.

"Either they think we're gods again," said Daniel. "Or they must not have had any visitors in a while."

"It's probably both," said Arcade. "You know how this goes. Care to do the honours again, Doctor Jackson?"

"Hey, I like it when this kind of stuff happens," said Veronica. "Until we tell them the truth and then all the fun gets drained out of it, that is. Can't a girl feel like a goddess even just for a little while?"

"Not when more important things are at stake," said Daniel. "Remember what we came here to do, Veronica."

She just chuckled. "Such a killjoy, doc."

"Does this happen _every_time you go off-world?" queried Sable. "What an interesting life."

"Sometimes," answered Daniel. "But we make every effort we can to dispel any preconceived notions about us. That's something you'll have to keep in mind when you start operating independently. I'm sure, as a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, that you're able to put your duty above your own personal pleasure."

That just elicited a scoff from Grayson. "Not with Sable, doctor. He has… a reputation."

"Hey!" retorted Sable. "I'm all for the truth, doctor sir. If necessary, I do what I have to do to get the mission done. If I get a little pampered along the way, then I suppose it's just a necessary sacrifice, isn't it? No harm, no foul."

"Nonetheless," continued Daniel. "We have to make our intentions clear and avoid any confusion. It's better to tell the truth right at the start and solve any problems stemming from that quickly than to lead them along under false assumptions and have it all fall apart once they eventually find out the truth. Remember, these people are not as advanced as we are."

"Finally, he admits it," said Arcade.

"Technologically speaking, that is," said Daniel hurriedly. "That doesn't mean they're ignorant savages whose culture needs fixing."

"Docs," said Veronica. "Can you can it for a second? I think I see this place's head honcho about to stroll up to us."

The high priest, Tarun was his name, invited the group over to the grand temple for a celebration. Compared to most men who held the moniker, he seemed rather young and seemed a lot less pious than his rank would demand him to be. Once they were inside, Daniel and Arcade went about their explanation process while the rest of the team settled down. Sable started eyeing some of the native girls and smiled at them. Grayson was busy scanning the area and writing things down on her notebook. Once the initial confusion was dealt with, due process took its place and Tarun called the servants up for a meal. Despite Daniel and Arcade dispelling the notion that their new visitors were not, in fact, gods, they were still as hospitable as ever. They took their meal below the cracked and forgotten statue of an alien being whose head had been cut off, at a long table where they knelt down and sat on soft chairs filled with the feather of one of the native birds. Daniel looked at the statue curiously and looked at Tarun.

"You know," said Daniel. "I would have expected a temple such as this to take better care of its statues."

Tarun looked at the statue and laughed. "Oh, that is a statue of Shiva. Many centuries ago we worshipped him. He is the Lord of the Demons, and we have been fighting him for centuries."

"Why is that?"

"It is a long story. Truth be told, my title is little more than a relic these days. A joke goes around: we handle everything _except_matters of faith." He laughed at that. "Shiva is powerful, yes, but he can be defeated. Once, a long time ago, we gave him tribute and were completely subservient to him. My ancestors put a stop to that, and we fought to free ourselves from his bondage. Much blood was spilled and even today we honour their sacrifice every third cycle of the second moon. Those still loyal to him are exiled to the Great Forest where he now lives, and we battle his demons every chance we get."

"Interesting," said Arcade. "This may be the first time we've heard of a population actually _succeeding_in rebelling against the Goa'uld, to an extent. Without our help, at least. Most of the time revolts are crushed with impunity and nobody's left behind to tell the tale. How'd you manage it?"

"The stories will tell you that Shiva was once more powerful than he was now. He held control over worlds beyond this one, and he could perform powerful feats of sorcery that would make even the most stalwart warrior retreat in fear. One of his servants, Kali, betrayed him and struck him down. For a time, it was believed that he was dead. And then he appeared here, with his army of monsters and demanded that we pay tribute to him lest we be destroyed. Ever since his defeat, however, we knew that he was not invincible. We fought back. There were many battles, and the war has been raging for many years. We forced him and his followers into his Forest and from there we were able to live our lives free from him for the most part."

"You said that his loyalists still give you trouble," said Daniel. "What do you mean by that?"

"There are still people who believe in him. He has monsters, terrible beasts that will follow his every command. He sends out many of them to raid our villages, kidnap our people and steal our food. We fight against them but they just keep coming. They are hard to kill and they possess the strength of many men. Recently, however, our smiths have discovered a new method of making weapons strong enough to kill them. Now they can be killed with only one man instead of five. We've spent the last few years planning our final attack, and now we are confident we can defeat him once and for all. Once the monsters are gone, the loyalists will be next."

"Interesting…"

As Daniel and Arcade continued quizzing the high priest, the rest were busy eating the meals that had been delivered to them. Sable happily ate up what was set down in front of him, while Grayson was hesitant and only took small bites. Veronica, hungry as ever, followed Sable's example and gobbled everything down as well. By the time the food baskets were empty, Daniel and Arcade found that they were satisfied with the answers given to them and stood up. Daniel looked at Veronica and nodded.

"Arcade and I are going to take a walk around," he said. "We're going to gather what information we can about this place's culture and history. It's possible that this Shiva has the technology we're, or rather you're," he dropped a suspicious glance in the general direction of the Brotherhood, "looking for. In any case, I relish the chance to learn more about this… interesting culture. If you'll excuse us, Tarun."

Tarun nodded at them. "Go, go! As you please, the city is grateful for your presence. It is not often that we meet visitors from another world. The Great Forest is a forbidding place, and you are lucky to have survived it."

"Forbidding?" asked Daniel. "What do you mean? We didn't see a lot of danger on the way here, save for the occasional run-in with the wild raptor."

"It is where Shiva and his followers dwell. Many battles have been fought near the ring of the gods. Our forces are holding steady there in preparations for the siege. You are lucky to have arrived when you did, otherwise… There is no telling what happens when you are taken by Shiva and his monsters. Many of those kidnapped never return and those who do refuse to speak of their experiences."

"I see," said Daniel. He turned to Veronica. "Do you think our position is still safe over there?"

"They'll be fine," said Veronica. "Cordoba can hold his own and Light's not that bad of a fighter herself. Hell, she still has the top score for sniper training in Taggart's VR sims and even now nobody's been able to beat it, save for…" She tried to recall who it was. "I forgot the name, but they're second place. Paladin now, I think."

"And my robot's there," added Grayson. "If necessary, and if the signal holds, I may be able to activate it remotely and activate its defensive subroutines. If not… Well, I assume Senior Scribe Light knows how to work her out. Most of her more advanced functions will be disabled since it's locked to my signature but her combat inhibitors will be fully functional."

"Good to know," said Daniel. "Well, I'll go take a walk now. Arcade's already outside and he looks like he's starting to get antsy. Try not to offend anyone while you're here."

"Got it, doc," said Veronica. She took a bite out of one of the courses that the temple servants had prepared for them. This one was a milky dessert food with some sort of fruit inside, which Daniel had told her tasted like strawberries. She quite liked it, and she had almost finished the whole plate by herself, which earned an endearing compliment from one of the natives about how the temple cook's skill could earn the admiration of even foreign dignitaries. Veronica shot back with another compliment and asked for more. The high priest obliged and sent for another round.

Once the meal was done, Tarun gathered the temple's servants together and informed the group that their quarters were ready. The natives handed them several gifts – figurines, blankets, and a sample of the local fashion – Grayson and Veronica received long yellow-and-purple dresses which tapered on the sides to showcase their legs, embroidered on the chest and on the sleeves with fancy golden cloth symbols written in the planet's native language. Sable, on the other hand, was given something a bit less glamorous – a plain brown robe for the legs and a black vest without a shirt for the torso that would have left his chest bare. He assumed it to be warrior garb, given the way that similar attire was being worn around the place by city guards under their armour.

Veronica was ecstatic. This was one of her favourite parts of the off-world missions – getting to play dress-up. It wasn't exactly a fancy gown but she found it appealing enough, especially after studying the way the clothing wrapped around several of the natives she saw earlier.

"It's so thin. And no shoes?" complained Grayson as she held up the clothing. "I'm not going to walk around barefoot in this flimsy chemise like a sava…"

"Sarong," corrected Sable. "I heard that in a holotape at some point. Don't look at me like that, I can be cultured too."

"Whatever. You get my point."

Veronica shrugged and continued inspecting the garment. "Up to you if you want to wear it. I think it's pretty cute."

Grayson shook her head. She'd heard of Veronica's proclivities before and she wanted to have no part of it. "I don't. I'm fine with my issued robes. I'd prefer to be drenched in sweat inside this thing rather than expose my skin for all of these lechers to see."

Sable, on the other hand, was more accommodating. "Looks comfy." He then looked at two of the girls he had been eyeing earlier. He smiled at them and they blushed. "But I'm afraid I can't seem to figure out how to put this on. Perhaps if I had some _help_…"

Veronica sighed. "Don't sleep with them, Alex. That's an order."

The girls took Sable's clothing as he continued to beam at them. Once they had all of the gifts given to him they beelined it straight to his room. He just wore his insolent grin and nodded. "Understood, Proctor."

-=(O)=-

The moonlight in this planet was a spectacular thing, like nothing he'd ever seen before. It cast long, dancing shadows in the dark room that enthralled the man and the woman on the bed. They were both naked. The man extended his arm around the woman's shoulder.

She rested in his embrace, content and satisfied. "I… I have never felt like this before."

"There are so many worlds out there," he said. "It's astounding that in all of them this is the one where I found you."

She just giggled at that remark. "I bet you say that to everyone."

He smiled. "Only to people who matter."

She slapped him for that. He laughed playfully as they once again laid down to begin again. "Liar."

"It's the truth."

In the middle of their kiss, he suddenly heard voices outside the room. Many of them. From what he could make out, it seemed like they were looking for him. He immediately rose from the bed and grabbed his pants. "Shit."

The woman sat down in an upright position and looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Hide." He looked around, looking for somewhere to stash his lover. He found the closet and pointed at there. "There. Whatever you do, don't make a sound."

She complied and ran towards the closet. She heard sounds of struggle and strange sounds that she could only assume to be the work of sorcery. By the time she had gathered enough courage to peer out of the closet, they had vanished without a trace. Overwhelmed by surprise, she blacked out.

The next day, Veronica called up the team to breakfast in one of the opulent gardens resting on one of the central pyramid's steps, overlooking the city. According to Daniel, these gardens basically served as restaurants for the rich and elite of the planet's society, and servants, as always, were at their beck and call to attend to their every whim as honoured guests of the high priest. Even here, there was a stark difference between the rich and the poor, which Arcade theorized was a universal mark of any sufficiently-developed human civilization. Daniel agreed with him on that, and they launched into a discussion which Veronica could only follow for a few minutes before it started giving her a headache.

Grayson popped up after half an hour of Veronica sampling the local cuisine, wearing the dress given to her alongside her boots. She tried to avoid making eye contact with Veronica as she moved to sit down across from her, looking at the food prepared for her with feinted enthusiasm.

"I thought you said you weren't going to dress like a savage," said Veronica. In the sarong, she admitted that Grayson struck quite a sight despite her constant grouchy attitude. "You look good, though."

A blush crept up Grayson's face at the compliment. She didn't receive many of those, least of all from one of her superiors. She tried to avoid returning the favour out of a misplaced sense of pride. "I was unable to sleep in the robes, ma'am. It was… uncomfortable."

Veronica raised an eyebrow, as if to suggest something. "Oh?"

Grayson made a show of eating her food and pausing thoughtfully while she was chewing. After she swallowed, she cleared her throat in a conspicuous manner. "I was simply uncomfortable, ma'am. Nothing less, nothing more. It was…"

"Hot?" finished Veronica.

"Y-yes, ma'am," she said quickly. Veronica tried to stifle a laugh at the way the scribe was growing uncomfortable. "As in, there was too much heat and it was causing sweat which-"

Veronica stopped her before she could make the situation more awkward. She was starting to feel sorry now. "That's what I meant. I understand what you mean."

"Oh…" Grayson mulled over her response for a few seconds and then shook her head. She figured that if she had to endure this, she wasn't going to be stuck in this position alone. "Well, in addition to my uncomfortable position I am also obliged to disclose that Knight Sable has disobeyed one of your direct orders and-"

"Is that why else you couldn't sleep?"

Grayson flushed again and nodded hastily. "Y-yes, ma'am. In addition to the uncomfortable-"

"All right, Grayson. You don't have to explain yourself. We know how much that man can't resist… doing his thing. Well, if he disobeyed a direct order then I'm inclined to reprimand him for that, am I?"

Grayson simply kept her mouth shut and nodded. At the sound of Veronica's exasperated sigh, she perked up considerably, which when it came to her meant nothing more than a little smile that played around with the corners of her lips. Veronica stood up and made a show of dusting off her shirt. "Well, I suppose I should go give him the stick, then. Where is he?"

"I believe he's still in his room, ma'am. I haven't sight caught of him since last night."

With that, Veronica left the two doctors still immersed in their conversation about the merits of class and its place in human society and trudged off to look for Sable's room. After some confusion within the temple and a less-than-accidental glimpse into the female baths she managed to find the room that had been given to him. Red flags were immediately raised in her mind when she saw Tarun and a gaggle of the planet's highborn clustered around the doorway which had been blocked by one of the temple guards. Tarun looked pale and was sweating profusely. Veronica slowly crept up behind him to avoid getting noticed and listened.

"Dark magic…" muttered Tarun. "He must have been taken by Shiva."

Veronica blinked. "Come again?"

"Your friend has been taken," said Tarun, not even bothering to remark on her sudden appearance. "Last night. One of our guards spotted a party of unknown men last night barging into his room. We followed them, but it was too late – they had already disappeared. The servant he spent the night with claims that she heard the sound of sorcery being performed-"

"Tell me where he is."

Tarun was surprised by Veronica's answer. "Did you not hear what I said? Shiva has taken him, there is nothing you can do to-"

"I'm sorry, but let me rephrase: where is Shiva?"

"You cannot be serious."

Veronica didn't bother to answer back with a witty retort. She was not joking this time. "I am."

Tarun just stood there, slackjawed. "I can not believe this. You are insane to think that you can stand up to him on your own."

Veronica just smiled. "We'll take him down. Watch and see."

"_How?_" he asked. "You can't possibly hope to fight against him on your own."

Veronica curled her fists into a ball and tried to stifle her emotions. "That doesn't matter. We're going to kick his ass. I'm not just going to stand by here while my men are being taken from me. Bring along your men with me if you'd like – they can pick off the leftovers while we do the job for you like we've always done."

"Impossible. Our battle preparations are not ready."

"We don't need your help," said Veronica. "We're going in anyway. Where is he?"

Tarun noted her reactions and rubbed his chin in thought. He could tell that he wasn't going to stop her no matter what he said. "I see… Your resolve is strong. I have no doubt that you are great warriors, but perhaps it is best if you wait until our battle preparations are complete, yes?"

"No," said Veronica. "We can't afford to waste any time. We need to go _now._"

"Very well," said Tarun. "I am sending a scouting party into enemy territory later tonight before we make our attack. Captain Rajit and his men should be making preparations now – if you wish, you can accompany them until you reach the gates of Shiva's domain. It is more advisable than going there alone. They know the lay of the land and they can advise you on what threats you may encounter."

"That would be nice," said Veronica with a cocky smile. "I'll make sure the party's in full swing by the time you get there. Drinks are on me."

Veronica went back to the terrace and gathered up her squad, and after a brief conversation with Arcade they grudgingly decided to accompany her on the quest to recover the lost knight. After gathering their gear, they met up with Rajit's men – a squad of native warriors swathed in camouflage and light bronze armour, each carrying weapons whose metal gleamed in the sunlight. Daniel asked them about it and discovered that each weapon had somehow been imbued by the smiths with a recently-discovered alloy that was more powerful than anything they'd ever made before. They set off on the journey back to the forest and encountered no resistance along the way, although they couldn't help but sense that someone was watching them all along the way. When they reached the Stargate clearing in the forest, the night was already in full swing and they were greeted with a flood of blinding light thanks to the camp's two spotlight turrets and Cordoba's brightness-enhanced helmet headlight. There was little sound save for the sound of crickets chirping in the forest and the sound of a portable fusion generator humming near one of the tents.

Cordoba's voice echoed throughout the clearing. "HALT!" he shouted. "Identify yourself!"

Veronica started waving her arms around. "Pizza delivery!"

"Damn it, Veronica," said Cordoba. "One of these days…"

"Love ya too. Where's our stuff?"

"Same place where it's always been," said Light. She'd changed into a set of attire more fit for field duties – a thick set of fatigues with lots of pouches and pockets for technological instruments and other miscellanea. On her hand she was wearing an advanced polymer combat helmet with an HUD visor. "Are we ready to return? I've managed to collate a lot of data concerning the planet's environment, flora and fauna. Cordoba's been busy as well. We've encountered hostiles."

"That must be our mutual friends," said Veronica. "What can you tell us about them, Cor?"

"They're tough," he said. "Haven't gotten a good look at them yet. They hide."

"They tried to attack us once," continued Light. "A few shots in their general direction dissuaded them and they never tried again. We see them peeking every once in a while, though. They seem to be acting defensively rather than actively trying to root us out."

"Is that it?" asked Veronica. "Figured you might have something more concrete. These guys live in the forest, apparently. Looks like they're being cautious. Do you think I should establish contact with the Elder and ask for more guys to back us up?"

"No need," said Grayson. She walked over to the crate that held her robot. "It's time."

Once Grayson released a valve on her crate and opened up what looked to be some sort of terminal on the side. Hydraulics hissed and released various catches around the extensively jury-rigged metal box and once the surprise was revealed, Veronica held her mouth agape in surprise.

"You told me to bring something sensible, ma'am, so I did," she said with a grin. "I call her Athena. From what I could gather on the archives, her production line is known as the Assaultron. Saw limited distribution out in the west coast."

Veronica squinted. It was something new, to say the least. "I hope that thing's combat inhibitor is safe. It gives me the creeps."

"Not to worry, ma'am," replied Grayson. "She's under my complete control."

The way she said _complete_only served to unnerve Veronica. She couldn't quite figure out why, but there was something about Grayson that just felt… off. It had been a feeling that stayed with her ever since they were initiates. "Right… Let's go, then."

Shaking the thought of Grayson's eccentricities off her mind, the group geared up for combat. Veronica stepped inside her newly-refurbished set of T60 power armour and broke it in by walking around in circles around the gate while the others got ready. After gathering their belongings, Light joined up with the group. Strapped to her back was a long metal gun case and on her belt were a variety of tools that were designed to inspect whatever technological items they found on their trek. Cordoba stayed behind to guard the Stargate. Rajit and his men were awestruck by Veronica's power armour and couldn't keep her eyes off of her, while the others looked at Grayson and couldn't keep their eyes off of her as well, although for different reasons. She was less accommodating than Veronica was in that regard and often shot venomous looks at her gawkers. They got the message quickly after the metal man following her stared them down with its large red eye.

Their journey stopped after Captain Rajit noted down a burned-out ranch on the way to their destination. It looked like it had been hit recently – and the assailants were still there.

Veronica squinted at the hulking green figures camped out near the farmhouse. They were clustered around the fire, huddling for warmth. There were four of them; each wearing what looked to be huge pieces of iron armour with medieval-looking pointy helmets that left only the eyes and the mouth exposed, much like what the guards were wearing back at the planet's capital. They were singing something in a language that reminded her of a holotape she'd seen long ago. Was it the one with the dinosaurs? She couldn't remember.

Veronica pointed. "What _are_those things? They're like lakelurks, but they're not. I've heard enough lectures from Arcade to realize that those things probably didn't come from Earth, so they must be native here or something. What can you tell me about those guys?"

"They are called Unas," said Rajit. "Monsters, the lot of them. Many of them serve as elite warriors in Shiva's army, and they are brutal when it comes to carrying out his will. A long time ago it was said that they numbered in countless legions that laid waste to many worlds enforcing his law, but that was before Kali struck him down. He may have had control of his empire wrested from him but he still controls quite a large number of them. After his fall he sent them out to raid and plunder us whenever he pleased, at least until we rose up against him. They must be destroyed at all costs."

"How many of them are there?" asked Daniel.

Veronica put on her helmet and switched to night vision. She could spot four of the creatures, one of them eating something – a large piece of roasted meat. "Three," she said. "We can take them down in less than a minute."

"Can I use her now?" asked Grayson. "I want to…"

"Not yet, child," said Light. "No need to spook the natives more than they already are. We'll handle this one."

Grayson just looked at Light suspiciously and raised her eyebrow. She grumbled and cross her arms. "What can _you_do?"

Grayson set down the long metal case she was carrying on a fallen log and opened it. Inside was an M72 gauss rifle built exactly like the one she was using in the VR sims. "Once upon a time, I was the best sniper in the sims if you'd believe it. When I wasn't busy writing something or picking apart my husband's work for minor details I was camping out in the pod, picking off virtual targets one by one. Not even Hardin could hope to match my high score. I know this gun inside and out. It's time to put all those hours spent in the pod to good use, don't you think?"

"More power to you," said Veronica. She took out her glove box and started picking out her tools much like someone picking out groceries at the Super Duper Mart. She decided to go with two plain pneumatic gloves – she wanted to see how well the T60 would fare without anything fancy. "Doc, can you back me up?"

"Way ahead of you," said Arcade. He slid a microfusion cell into his Q-35 rifle. He looked at Light and Veronica beside him. "I'll take the one on the left. All at once?"

Light squatted beside the fallen log, rested the rifle on it, and took aim. She slid in her 2mm EC projectiles into the rifle and nodded. "Ready when you are."

"You mean to attack them on your own?" asked Rajit. "You truly are a courageous bunch, I must say. Bordering on the edge of foolish."

"The surprise wears off once you get used to them doing it so many times," said Daniel. "It gets annoying, actually. Violence _never_ends up as a last resort."

"Well, of course it's not going to be the last resort if _they_start shooting first," said Arcade. "Turns out it's actually quite difficult to resolve your problems diplomatically while you're under plasma fire. Fun fact."

"Ready when you are, doc," said Veronica after the gloves slid into place with a satisfying hydraulic hiss. She adopted a fighting stance and stood ready to rush her enemy.

Light fired the first shot. The 2mm projectile rocketed out and distorted the air it came into contact with, giving off the impression of a miniature heat wave along its trail. By the time they heard the sonic boom the first unas had already been killed and itts helmet had exploded into metal shrapnel which served to make its head stop existing. Arcade followed up Light's attack and hit the second one with a plasma blast to the torso. It screamed in agony and turned around to face its attacker, but by the time it saw him Arcade already fired another shot and reduced its chest to molten pile of mixed liquid slag. Veronica was quick on the uptake and rushed the last one. Caught by surprise at first, it quickly saw what was coming and took out its spear. It ran to match Veronica, but she stopped mid-run and took hold of the weapon's metal pole, bending it easily with her T60-assisted strength. The creature staggered backwards and drew a knife from its belt, trying to stab Veronica, despite her armor. An act of desperation. She answered the attempt with a punch to the chest. It fell down on the ground, got back up and turned around to run away.

"You're a tough one," she said, her voice coming out from her helmet as if it were being filtered through a radio. She casually followed the unas and grabbed its arm, causing it to fall down once more.

"_Ka!_" it shouted, its voice guttural and rough. The voice reminded Veronica of a Super Mutant, only somehow less refined. "_KA! KA!"_

"Veronica!" Daniel shouted towards her. "He's giving up. You should-"

It was too late. Veronica had already torn the unas' arm off and finished it off with a power-assisted boot to the head. Daniel's objections were drowned out by a cacophony of cheers from Rajit's squad.

"Well done!" he said. "It takes many of us to kill these monsters. To have beaten them so quickly… Truly you are something else!"

"All in a day's work," said Veronica as she casually wiped green blood off her fists. Daniel walked up to her and inspected the unas' body.

"So much for asking questions," he muttered. "But perhaps we could have interrogated them, at least?"

"You cannot," said Rajit. "Their language is far too demonic for us to understand. We have tried, in the past, to offer peace but they do not listen. Shiva has them under his complete control."

After tending to the remains, they inspected the rest of the site and noticed that the farmhouse was a little less abandoned than it should be – the building was intact, but it was clear that it had been attacked. They opened the doors and found a scene straight from a horror holofilm.

Veronica held her breath. She was spared the smell thanks to her helmet's filters but it didn't make the sight of it any less horrific. "My God…"

"The smell…" muttered Arcade. "Far too familiar."

"Now you see why they must be destroyed?" said Rajit. He took a weapon from one of the fallen inhabitants and brandished it. "They put up a fight, but it appears that it was futile. This is the problem with people who live in the Forest. They believe that they will be free here, but they fail to heed the warnings."

Grayson looked inside the house and immediately blanched at the sight. "Excuse me," she said as she put a hand over her mouth. She ran outside and tended to her business while the rest of them inspected the contents of the abandoned cabin.

"We have to hurry," said Veronica, her voice urgent. "Before they do… _this_to Sable. If we're too late, I'll do everything in my power to make sure they regret it."

-=(O)=-

Elsewhere...

This was a quiet world. They had not seen the Goa'uld for centuries, and they lived peaceful lives. They were waiting for the return of the beings known only as the Asgardians, who in the prophecies were said will return in their moment of most dire need. That all changed when the visitors arrived.

An army of strange men and women clad in unfamiliar clothing walked through the giant ring that was said to herald the arrival of gods, each of them carrying weaponry and tools that defied comprehension. Creatures made of metal followed behind them, looking around and scrutinizing everything that they saw.

The planet's native populace greeted them with great warmth, but it seemed that the visitors were rather apathetic to it all. They didn't care about them. And then…

"LOOK AT ALL THESE SUBJECTS!" said one of the metal creatures. "SWEET, UNSPOILED, UNIRRADIATED SUBJECTS! TEAR THEM ALL APART, LOBOTOMITES! TO A LIMITED EXTENT, OF COURSE. I NEED THEIR ALIVE BODIES FOR MY EXPERIMENTS."


End file.
